


To Protect the World

by MyceliumMythos



Series: RWCT [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Background Team SSSN, Capture the Flag, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Dates, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Haven Academy, M/M, Mistral - Freeform, Museums, Original Character(s), Same World Different Continent, Team Bonding, Team as Family, This Ship Can't Sink, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 66,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyceliumMythos/pseuds/MyceliumMythos
Summary: Whether it's first dates or first jobs as hunters, Citrine Vermoss and her friends at Haven Academy have no lack of new challenges on their hands, and beyond the ease brought by new friendships and alliances, there are greater dangers lurking in the kingdom.  With the opening of the largest city outside of Mistral just on the horizon and a team of rogue hunters threatening its safety, the very future of civilization may depend on whether Team RWCT can rise to face them.  The Vytal Festival Tournament has left the kingdom without many of its greatest warriors, and it's up to those left behind to ask what they are willing to give to keep their kingdom safe.





	1. The Shape of Things to Come

It was in the tiny village of Ponente where the Vermoss Hunting Commune made their beds in late October.  Two members of the commune in particular had made their bed in one of the rooms at the local inn.  Robin Nomarch and Nary Coline sat side-by-side on that bed, watching the sunrise from their window and breathing in deeply the chilly morning air.

“You know, I don’t think we take enough time to appreciate the sunrise,” Robin commented, breaking the silence.

Nary nodded.  “We’re up before it all the time, especially now that the nights are getting longer,” she said quietly, “but we never really stop to notice it anymore.”

“You know what else I don’t take enough time to appreciate?” Robin asked.

Slowly, Nary turned to look up at her.  “What?” she asked.

Robin briefly looked at her and when she saw the intensely hopeful look in her yellow eyes, the leader of Team RNBW couldn’t help but blush and chicken out.  “Sunsets!” she exclaimed.  “We never really notice sunsets either.  I mean, they’re there every single day and we never stop to—”

“Robin.”

Robin stopped and looked down, noticing that Nary had placed her hand on Robin’s prosthetic one.  There was a phantom feeling of warmth and familiarity there, even though the hand itself had been absent for 17 years. 

“What are we doing?” Nary asked.  “For more than 20 years, we’ve been partners together.  We’ve been hunters together.  By the good dust, we’ve even been _parents_ together.  We have a daughter together, and she’s a _wonderful_ daughter, but she’s nearly grown up.  She’s got a team of her own now, and I feel like we,” she squeezed Robin’s hand, “have waited long enough.”

“Nary,” Robin breathed.  Then she grinned.  “I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in 20 years.”  When Nary huffed and looked aside, Robin laughed and said, “Come on now, you know I’m taking this seriously.  It’s just that you’ve always been the one saying you didn’t want to do this until we were out of the business.”

“Well, if all goes according to plan, we will be soon,” Nary said, laying her head against Robin’s shoulder.  Robin froze and melted all at once, her mind carrying back to their early days at Haven, when Nary fully twined their arms together and said, “And I’m tired of waiting.”

“Nary, I…I—”

“Guys, guys, it’s—oh, this again.”

Robin and Nary jumped and separated, turning to see their teammate Warbler Dalton at their door.  “What is it?” Robin asked in her patented leader voice.  When Warbler rolled his eyes at them, she snapped, “ _What?_   Not everyone married their academy sweetheart, _Dalton_.”

Warbler snorted and crossed his arms, saying, “And whose fault is that, _Coline?_ ”  Nary shrunk beside Robin as he continued on excitedly, “Anyway, I just came to grab you guys because Citrine just texted!  She says she’s going to call in a few minutes!”

Robin and Nary exchanged glances, the former’s grin complementing the latter’s gentle smile.  “Even when they’re grown up, I guess a mother’s work is never done,” Robin laughed.  Then they headed off downstairs to use the town’s one functioning video port.

The fourth member of their team, Budge Melopes, was waiting for them there, awkwardly seated and excitedly rocking back and forth in a too-small wooden chair in front of the port.  “Hurry up,” he said, gesturing them over.  Out of all the people who had communally raised their daughter, he was easily the most excitable of them and waiting for her calls from Haven could easily rile him up.  As Warbler seated himself on Budge’s lap and Nary knelt in front of the small screen, Robin brought around another chair and waited for the call to come in on the slightly staticy port.

 “Citrine!” they sang, beaming as their daughter, Citrine Vermoss, appeared on screen. 

Citrine smiled back at them in a smaller way, though Nary began to worry at once, not seeing anything in her familiar freckled face that said she was actually happy to see them.  Perhaps she was just tired.  Life at Haven could be fairly taxing, after all, and Citrine had not had an easy run of it her first few weeks there.  “Hey guys,” Citrine greeted them back.

“Why’re you calling so early?” Robin asked. 

“Hush, Robin,” Warbler scolded her.  “Citrine, _I’m_ glad you called.  We’ve actually got some big news to tell you!”

Robin looked at him sharply and said, “I thought we weren’t telling her that yet.”

“Oh, come on.  What’s the harm?”

“It could be a lot of harm, Warbler.”

“Ignore them, Citrine,” Budge told her.  “How’s Haven?  You said last time you were finally whipping that team of yours into shape.  How’re they doing?  What’s your combat record in your seminar?  Oh, and how's Ware?  Did you two get those scones I sent you?”

“I bet you're doing better than Hamlin and Radcliff’s kid,” Warbler said proudly, having found out that his old nemeses on Team CHRM had a son in Citrine’s class who was also a leader.

“Yeah, things have been going great, I guess,” Citrine said absent-mindedly.  “My team’s doing really well.  I’m doing good in seminar.  I’m getting along with a lot more people now and I guess I kind of went on a date a few days back, but—”

“A date?  Citrine, you didn’t tell us!  How was it?  How did it go?”

“Who are they?  Their last name isn’t Cliff, is it?”

“Are they strong?  They had better be strong.  No daughter of mine is lowering her standards to date some weakling.”

“Yeah, whatever, it was fine,” Citrine snapped.  “He’s going off to Vale soon anyway, so it’s…it’s whatever.”

Three of the members of Team RNBW hesitated and exchanged uncertain glances as they realized they were facing for the first time a certain parenting problem they had only heard about in myths and legends: boy trouble.  Nary, however, was able to see the troubled expression on her daughter’s face for what it really meant, and did not waver.

“Citrine,” she said gently, “what’s the matter?  The last time you called, it seemed you had really turned things around.  Is your team misbehaving again?  Has that boy started harassing you again?”

“No, it’s none of that,” Citrine grumbled.  She stared down at her hands a moment, then looked to her parents with a confused expression.  “I was just…I was just wondering if I ever told you guys why I wanted to be a hunter.”

Budge frowned, the gears in his head turning heavily in concentration.  “No, I…don’t think you did,” he said uncertainly.

“Me neither,” Warbler agreed.  “What is it then, honey?”

“Honestly, I was hoping you guys would tell me,” she said.  “I was hoping that I had told one of you when I was little, and I had just forgotten, because now I’m 17 and I’m just…I’m just realizing I don’t know why I wanted to become a hunter in the first place.”

“Well, Citrine,” Robin laughed, “you’ve always wanted to be a hunter.  Even before you could walk and talk, you—”

“Yeah, I know that!” Citrine snapped.  “I always wanted to be a hunter.  I’ve been training all my life to be a hunter, but I don’t know why, and it’s kind of a big deal!  You guys just let me spend my life on this without even asking me why!”

“We spent years training you because you never stopped asking us to,” Warbler said, thoroughly taken aback.  “We sort of assumed you knew why.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have taken a five year old at face value!” she exclaimed. 

“What does it even matter why?” Budge asked.  “You love hunting and you’re good at it.  Isn’t that enough for you?”

Citrine palmed her face and growled, “Yeah, I love hunting, but I couldn’t tell you what I love about it.  I couldn’t tell you if I like proving I’m the best at it or if I like using my strength to put down bad people or if I like it because it makes me feel like a hero, but I should be able to. If I don’t know why I want to have this job where my life in on the line every single day, then I…I don’t know if I should even _be_ a hunter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! And there we go, the start of Vol. 2! We've got a little flash-forward to start things off, and we'll be rewinding things next chapter to see how things got here.


	2. The Ol' Switcheroo

Several weeks earlier, Robin and Nary had not yet decided to throw caution to the wind, and Citrine had not yet begun to question her purpose as a hunter.  Weeks earlier, things were a little brighter for all parties in the Vermoss extended family, and Citrine herself was sitting back on her bed, watching an ad on TV. 

“Monsters, demons, prowlers of the night,” a distinguished male voice narrated over some—obviously computer generated—shots of Grimm slashing their claws and leaping at the screen.  “The creatures of Grimm have threatened us since the dawn of time, constantly attacking our borders and driving the progress of mankind into the ground.  But no more.”  The picture faded to a sweeping overhead shot of the skyline of a pristine, modern city.  An older man with wispy, pale green hair and a mustache, wearing a brown, tweed suit stepped before the projected shot and looked into the lens.

“My name is Folly Xalbador, founder and CEO of Mumus Industries.  For decades, my company has been a pioneer in construction and architecture, building up Mistral higher and safer, and now, we are going to take you into the future.  Welcome…to Kaijumura.”  The overhead shot changed to close-ups of the shops, businesses, and apartment buildings on the ground level of this modern city. 

“Kaijumura, built just ten miles south of Mistral, has all the amenities and comfort of the kingdom.  It is the grandest new city since Mountain Glenn was constructed outside of Vale, but unlike Mountain Glenn, this city will not fall to Grimm under the weight of poor planning and faulty engineering.  Kaijumura has been safeguarded and reinforced with the latest security technologies, and we are ready to prove that this masterpiece is the perfect new home for Mistral’s growing population.”

A title appeared over the commercial; “Kaijumura: Grand Opening October 31.”  Then, an advertisement for Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes came on, featuring the rabbit Pumpkin Pete in all his laughing, dancing, high-pitched glory.

“I can’t believe it,” Torque said, looking about as excited as Citrine had ever seen her.  She was rocking back and forth on her bed slightly, her eyes fixed on the screen where the ad had just been.  “They’re finally opening Kaijumura.  Xalbador has been building it for more than a decade and it’s finally here and we get to be bodyguards on the opening day.  Isn’t that amazing?”

“Well, _junior_ bodyguards,” Royal corrected her.  “Although, I’ll admit, it will be fairly interesting to have an active part in an opening ceremony for once, instead of standing by as an honored guest as I usually do.”

“We’re _ceremonial_ junior bodyguards,” Ware pointed out.  “We’ll still mostly be there to stand around and look pretty as speeches are made and ribbons are cut.”

“Ware, chill,” Citrine told him.  “We still get to be there when the streets are all clean and empty and no one’s around.  And we get to meet the ceremonial junior bodyguards from the other kingdoms!  And,” she gave all her teammates an excited grin, “we get that fat paycheck at the end.  Sounds pretty sweet to me.”

“Well, I’m glad you appreciate the opportunity so much,” Royal said.  “Feel free to thank me at any time, by the way.  I’m sure we were offered this prestigious opportunity because of my family’s connections.”

Torque snorted in disbelief.  “ _Your_ family?” she asked.  “Not _my_ family?  The parts and ammo suppliers that have had contracts with Mumus Industries for building secure, anti-Grimm walls for years?”

Ware smirked over their disagreement, commenting, “You know, it’s really great to have some interesting friends like you guys.  Almost everyone else I know would instantly attribute this opportunity to _my_ fame.”

“Guys, guys, please,” Citrine said soothingly, getting up and moving in-between her friends.  “Let’s not fight over this.  We’ve got the job.  We _earned_ this.  Besides.”  She gave them a devilish look.  “We all know we got it because of how much ass _I_ kicked in the Vytal prelims.”

Torque threw the remote at her and Citrine dodged, making a run for the door.  Ware quickly grabbed his bow and flung it out, tripping her.  As she skidded out into the hall, Royal leapt onto her, exclaiming, “I won’t take that insult lying down, Citrine!”  Then Torque jumped on them as well.  Then Ware…came out into the hall and watched them with a bemused expression.

And as Team RWCT enjoyed the moment, Citrine trying to push her friends off and assert her dominance, their scrolls began to buzz and vibrate in unison in an annoyingly familiar tone.  Ware was able to pull his out most easily and read the message there.  “Professor Lautrec wants us,” the fox faunus reported to them.   “Another exercise.”  As his teammates groaned in exasperation, he grinned, saying, “Cheer up!  At least this one’s on-island.”

The door across the hall from them opened up and their neighbor, Skull Muinarc, stepped out.  The gaunt boy took one look at the pile of friends on the floor, sneered at them, and walked away.  He didn’t even need to speak to tell them how much disdain he still had for them. 

Citrine frowned after him.  Skull had never much liked her or her team, but ever since she finally defeated him in combat class, he seemed to have lost some of his pep about tormenting them.  Now he just sulked around, stewing in his bitterness, and it was starting to worry her.

Torque, evidently, did not share her concern, based on the way she said, “He needs to get over himself already.”

“Agreed,” Ware said.  “Who’d like to wager on if he even makes it to training?”

“Ooh, I’m game,” Royal volunteered, getting to his feet.  “How about 75,000 lien on Skull?  I say he’s too stubborn to just give up like that.”

Citrine’s eyes nearly bugged out at the amount.  “For crying out loud, Royal!”

“Oh, you’re right, Citrine, you’re right,” Royal said as if he’d made a careless mistake.  “An even 100,000.”

“I’ll take those odds,” Ware agreed, shaking his offered hand. 

Citrine just shook her head at them in disbelief.  That was more money than she’d ever seen at once and they were just throwing it around on a bet.  These damn rich kids…

Professor Lautrec was waiting for the first years in the gymnasium on Haven’s main island alongside several teams of second-years Citrine had seen around campus.  In particular, she could recognize the leader of one of the teams as Marie Golds, an olive-skinned girl with an extensively long golden braid who had used her semblance to create illusions for one of Professor Wine and Professor Lu’s exercises earlier in the year.

As Royal silently slipped 100,000 lien into Ware’s hand, Professor Lautrec greeted them, saying, “Good day, students.  Today, we have a rather unique exercise planned for you all.  By now, you’ve all become at least proficient in terms of working with your teams, but as I—”  She hesitated.  “As all these upperclassmen can attest to, teams are not a constant.  For many reasons, from different career paths to even deaths, all of you will eventually have to work with people other than the teammates you have now.  This exercise is meant to test your ability to work in uncertain conditions and quickly adapt to working with new partners.”

Citrine shot a quick glance at her teammates, none of whom seemed very enthused about this idea.  It had been hard enough to get the four of them working together, and now they were being thrown together with a bunch of random combatants?

“Each of you will work with a rotating set of teammates in a combat situation against one of the upperclassmen who has volunteered to help with this exercise,” Professor Lautrec said, gesturing to some second-years who seemed perhaps a little too excited about fighting the one class of students less experienced than themselves.  “You will start by fighting at your assigned station, and when the buzzer goes off, you will move onto the next assigned station until you have fought against every opponent and alongside every ally.  Yes, Lux?”

Lux Baialban, one of Skull’s teammates, lowered her hand and glanced at the spot where her leader should have been standing, asking, “What should we do if we are absent a member today?”

Professor Lautrec sighed slightly, having noticed Skull’s absences in both her regular classes and her leadership seminars as of late.  “One of the rotations will simply have to be down a member,” she announced.  “In the meantime, let’s have our first four teams, Team BLUJ, Team GNTL, Team SSSN, and Team RWCT up against Team MPVL.”

Torque sighed as she headed off to her corner, grumbling, “Why are we always first?”

“Come on, guys!  Chin up!” Citrine called to her teammates.  “Make Team RWCT look good.”

According to the screen in her corner of the gym, Citrine was first up against Lazulus Bethane, a tall, pale boy with a quarterstaff, a dark blue ponytail, and a dreamy smile that reminded her somewhat of Ware.  She was also working with Neptune Vasilias, Garnet Beretta, and Bella Cinthenia.  Admittedly, Citrine wasn’t familiar with anyone on Team BLUJ or Team GNTL aside from their leaders and she had not historically… _liked_ Neptune, so she wasn’t sure how well they were going to work together.  Still, since his team had defeated hers in the Vytal Festival prelims and would soon be leaving for Vale, she had at least a modicum of respect for Neptune, and wanted to try to make this easy, efficient, and as pleasant as possible.

“Alright, I’m not sure what this guy’s semblance is, but if it matches a mild weapon like this staff, it could be pretty explosive,” Citrine said to her new teammates as they squared off against Lazulus.  “Keep your distance and play this defensively until he shows his cards.”

“Heck that!” Garnet exclaimed, slapping on a pair of sunglasses and whipping out a weapon with a rifle barrel equal in length to the sword blade attached to it.  “Guns blazing or get blazed!  That's the GNTL way!”

Citrine stared at her in utter confusion.  And she’d thought Torquil with his gun that _shot_ _knives_ was senseless.  However, she didn’t even have time to question how Garnet was supposed to steady her rifle without cutting herself before the buzzer announced the start of the match.  Garnet leapt at Lazulus immediately with Bella, wildly dual-wielding twin wires with sharpened metal shards embedded in them, not far behind.  Citrine had to take a step back just to avoid being whipped by their haphazard attacks and to have enough room to draw her poleaxe, Harbinger’s Almanac.

And then, _he_ had to speak.

“Hey,” Neptune greeted her in that overly polished way of his.  Citrine glared back at him as he said, “We haven’t had the chance to catch up lately.”

“We—”  This was almost too preposterous for her to say anything.  “We’ve _never_ caught up,” she said.  “We’ve never had a real conversation at all.”

“See?  It’s been too long!” he exclaimed.  “So, how’s my main moss girl doing?”

Citrine was grateful for Garnet and Bella both being flung back past them in that moment, giving her the chance to escape answering such a dumb and weird question.

“Come along now, you two,” Lazulus called to them, waiting by patiently with his staff by his side.  “It shouldn’t be this difficult to deal with me.”

Citrine leapt at him gladly, matching him in a clash of ranged weapons.  As it turned out, a second-year didn’t need a semblance to take her on in combat.  She thought she might be at least as fast as him, but he brought his swings down with greater strength and he had a considerably more polished form.  At the very least, she was able to get him to turn slightly, and while he was distracted, both Neptune and Garnet took shots at him. 

Lazulus blocked both of their shots and then slapped Citrine back towards them, but at least it earned them Lazulus saying, “Good try, good strategy!”

She grinned excitedly, saying, “Garnet, Bella, back at it!  Neptune—”

“Yeah, back to us,” Neptune said, resting his gun on his shoulder.  “How’re you doing?  Oh, and are you single, by the way?”

The buzzer that came next could not have come soon enough, and Citrine quickly hurried away with a blushing face and a mortified expression, saying, “Oh, thank the good dust.”

She was next matched up with Scarlet David, Nilam Ruger, and Ursula Arcton against Marie Golds.  It was no sooner than the match’s start that Marie confidently called out, “Try this on for size!” before tossing out a handful of hair.  A handful of illusory Maries appeared around her, hiding her real presence among them.

 _So that’s how she made that nevermore appear_ , Citrine thought.  “Alright, what we need to do here is—Nilam, no!”

She and the rest of the team had to duck as Nilam pulled out twin SMGs and started firing wildly in every direction, squeaking out a panicked-sounding, “Guns blazing or blaze out!  Guns blazing or guns out!”

Although his tactic dispelled the existing clones, it took Marie no time at all to make more.  Ursula’s tactic of transforming her arms into those of a bear and using them to slash at the clones in rapid-fire succession was equally ineffective.

Thinking quickly, Citrine eyed Scarlet’s gun and asked, “Scarlet, if I get rid of the clones, can you—”

“Already on it, love,” Scarlet replied.  He rushed forward and used Nilam’s head as a springboard to launch himself in the air as Citrine got in close to wipe out the clones with a swing of Harbinger.  With the real Marie temporarily revealed, Scarlet shot his grappling hook at her, yanking her into the air.  Of course, Marie was quickly able to yank him back and then hit him with the explosive gauntlet on her left fist, but it was good enough.

“Nice move there,” Citrine said, giving Scarlet a hand up after he crash landed beside her.

“You too.  You were pretty… _hot_ out there yourself,” he replied, giving her a smirk that made Citrine very uncertain of herself.  “And you know who else has some really nice moves?”

The buzzer then sent Citrine practically sprinting off across the gym to get away.  She bumped into Ware along the way, who noticed her odd movement and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

She just called back to him, “Fine!” and hurried on.

The next station was a little awkward, considering it consisted solely of the team leaders—herself and Sun Wukong, Torquil Derringer, and Jean Gormlaith.  All of them were friends to some degree, bonded by Professor Lautrec’s trying leadership seminar, but they weren’t sure what route to take with four leaders and no followers.

Then, their opponent, Viridia Grove, started the match by revealing her semblance allowed her to transform her arms into tree branches.  Citrine simply said, “Oh, hey.  I’ve got this,” and started using her semblance to drain the plant life from her tree limbs.

As Torquil and Jean fought against the rapidly weakening Viridia, Citrine turned to Sun and asked, “So, are you still planning on heading to Vale early?”

“Yeah, I figured I might do a little sight-seeing before I have to start classes there,” Sun said, leaning against his staff.  “Visit the local dust shop, punch an Atlesian Knight in the face, start a riot, whatever.  Y’know, touristy stuff!”

Citrine snorted and smiled.  At least Sun was being normal.  “Yeah, well, punch ‘em good for me,” she said.  “I hate those creepy tin cans.”

“Yeah, and uh.”  Sun coughed into his glove, suddenly having some trouble with words.  “Hey Vermoss, you know what’s is also good?  _Not_ hating stuff.”

She frowned up at him.  “Sun, what—”

“In fact, I hear from some people that there is a lot of good stuff to not hate about you, in particular,” he continued on, his speech growing more awkward by the word.  “And hey.  Hey.  This week.  Is there a time in that time when you might have some free time?”

She balked, her mouth hanging open.  “Uh…” she said.  Quickly, she looked around.  “Uhhhh, hey, isn’t that, um…that, um, buzzer supposed to be going off around—”

The buzzer went off, and Citrine straight up ran to her next station.

Her fourth and final opponent was Pongo Pucey, a short, scrawny boy with a long knife and a mass of frizzy, purple hair.  There, she was teamed up with Sage Ayana, Limon Cello, and Leslie Colt.  

Readying for battle, Citrine initially tried to avoid Sage, remembering how strange the rest of Team SSSN had been that day, and oddly enough, he seemed to be trying to avoid looking at her as well.  However, when he noticed the flush in her face, he lowered his massive sword and asked with genuine concern, “Are you okay, Citrine?”

“Look,” she said a little hotly, still avoiding his gaze, “ _I’m_ totally fine.  It’s just your teammates who are being a bunch of weirdos today.”

“What?” Sage snapped, looking mortified.  “What were they doing?”

“Neptune was doing his usual dumb ‘cool, flirty guy’ thing.  Scarlet was saying something about cool moves,” Citrine listed off.  She began to feel jittery as she realized she had yet to release the energy she’d drained from Viridia.  Perhaps it was because it was closely tied with someone else's aura, but it didn’t seem to be settling well with her.  “And I’m not even entirely sure what Sun was saying, but I think it had something to do with trying to ask me when I’m free this week?  I don’t know.  It was just all weird.”

“Ugh,” Sage groaned, palming his face.  “I told those guys to keep their mouths shut.”

“About what?” Citrine demanded.  “What are they even going on about?”

“Look, Citrine, I’m really sorry about all of them,” Sage said, tensing up.  “It’s just that I—it’s just—”

_Coat.  Cheese.  Pen.  Waterfalls.  Rainbow!  Orange.  Monkey.  Eagle._

Whatever Sage wanted to say was drowned out when both of their minds were suddenly flooded with thoughts of all sorts of items and concepts.  Citrine thought she’d had unwanted thoughts before, but nothing like this weird, unwarranted stream of randomness that felt as if it was being shouted into her head.  She looked over to where Pongo was already easily overpowering Limon and noticed a purple glow around his head.

_Wind chime.  Curtain.  Towers.  Bear.  Bears.  Lots of bears.  Cookie.  Dinner plate._

She could barely hear herself think, _It must be his semblance._

“Sorry,” Citrine said, holding up her hand, overflowing with green energy collected from Viridia, “I ain’t got the patience to deal with this.”  Then, she blasted her semblance into him, sending him crashing against the wall.  With her hands no longer shaking and her head blissfully her own again, she turned back to Sage and said, “You were saying?”

Sage stared in shock at the defeated second-year for a moment, and then back down at Citrine.  He let out a laugh and seemed to relax.  “That was…pretty awesome,” he said.  “Citrine, you’re a great hunter.”

“Aww, it was nothin’,” she said cheerfully, although she was celebrating internally.  "Mostly luck of the semblance."

“It _was_ cool,” Sage insisted.  “You’re cool.  And smart, and a good friend, and fun, and that…that’s why I—”  He took in a deep breath.  “I was wondering if you would want to go on a date with me this week.”

Citrine was still reeling from the “smart” and “good friend” compliments when she realized the entirety of what he’d said.  “Wait,” she said, looking up at him in shock, “what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification:  
> Team GNTL = Team Gunmetal  
> Team BLUJ = Team Blue Jay  
> Team MPVL = Team Maple
> 
> Also, I definitely tried to base Sun's awkward voice on Michael's ad read voice.


	3. Pretty Citrine

_“A date?  Like a date-date?”_

_“Yeah, a date-date.  Before I leave for Vale.”_

_“So, you…want to go on a date…with me?”_

_“Look, I knew it was a long shot to ask, but you don’t have to insult me.  You can just say—”_

_“No, no, no, no, wait!  I didn’t mean it like ‘_ you _want to go on a date with me,’ I meant it like, ‘_ you _want to go on a date with_ me? _’”_

===

“Those GNTL kids are all maniacs, aren’t they?” Royal asked, regrouping with his teammates.  “What was it they were all yelling?  Guns out or just blaze or something?”

Ware snickered behind his hand.  “Yeah, something like that,” he said.

“Honestly, I don’t know which one of their weapons is more impractical, the knife gun, the sword gun, or the two guns that turn into a rocket launcher.  Oh, _Citrine_ ,” he gasped as their leader approached them, a hollow and shaken look in her eyes.  “I’m sure you must be tired of hearing this from me, but you look _terrible_.”

Torque looked at her with concern as Citrine shuffled up to them.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.  “Did you get hurt in one of your fights?”

“No,” Citrine murmured, “no, I…”  She stared around at her teammates in confusion.  “I think I just got asked out on a date.  And I think I said yes.”

Torque stared at her in disbelief.  Ware started laughing.  Royal jumped over to her and grabbed her hands, saying, “Citrine, I barely even believe it!  Why didn’t you tell us?”

As usual, Royal seemed to bring her back to herself.  “Oh, shut up,” she snapped, wriggling out of his grip.  “It literally just happened.”

“Well, then tell us, tell us!” he said excitedly.  “Who asked you out?”

“Oh, yes, _do_ tell,” Ware said, imitating Royal’s aristocratic voice.  “ _Do_ tell us which of these ruffians thought they were good enough for our dear leader.”

“Now, Ware, I know you’re having fun there, but be serious.  I’m sure Citrine doesn’t get asked out very often, so this must be a very big occasion for her.”

“Ever, actually.”

Royal picked his head up.  “What?”

“I’ve…never been asked out on a date before,” Citrine admitted.  “Like I’ve said, I didn’t really know anyone else my age before now, so it wasn’t really an option.”

“Well, that just makes this an even more fantastic occasion!” Royal exclaimed.  “Your first date ever!  Don’t you worry about a thing, Citrine.  Your partner will use every resource at his disposal to ensure that your date is absolutely _flawless_.”  With that, he booped her on the nose and dashed off, making the moment seem all the more surreal.

“Aren’t we in the middle of a training exercise?” she asked her teammates.  “You all saw that, right?”

“I’m sure he just misses the glamor of debutant balls, or whatever it is he used to spend his time on,” Ware commented.

Torque smacked Citrine in the leg with her toolbox, Výthisi.  “You haven’t said yet,” she pointed out.  “Who asked you?”

“Oh, right.”  She looked over to Team SSSN, where Sage was surrounded by teammates who seemed not quite as excited over the news as Royal, but close still.  Sage caught her eye and smiled.  Citrine hesitated, then smiled back and shrugged.  _Teammates.  What’re you gonna do?_   “It was Sage Ayana,” she said.

Torque briefly looked at Sage as well, seemed to evaluate him for a moment, then concluded, “He’s fine, I guess.”

“Sage?  The big guy on Team SSSSSSN?” Ware asked, raising his eyebrows curiously.  “I didn’t know you knew him.”

“She beat him in the Vytal prelims,” Torque pointed out.

“Really?  I never pegged you as the type to date below your power level.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really know what my dating type is,” Citrine confessed.  “And I don’t really know Sage either.  But I think he likes me, and he seems nice, so I figure I might as well give him a shot.”

“He’s also gonna be out of the kingdom soon,” Torque said.  “You don’t have to deal with him for that long if it doesn’t go well.”

“Now, now, Torque,” Ware laughed, “that may be a little too advanced of a dating tip for our Citrine.”

Citrine simply shook her head at them.  “I really don’t get you guys sometimes.”

Royal was barely seen outside of classes for the next two days.  At first, Citrine wondered if he’d fallen into his old habits of practicing alone to hide his flaws and slow progress, but when he kept coming back to their room near midnight spilling sequins off the cuffs of his shirts and smelling of various flowery fragrances, she had to be suspicious that something else was up. 

Then, on the third day after classes, Royal rounded up his teammates and announced he had something very important to show them.

“This better be worth it for all the practices you’ve been missing,” Citrine told him skeptically as he led them down the hallway.

“Trust me, it is,” Royal assured her.  “I’ve been working day and evening to ensure that every detail was absolutely perfect.  Can’t you tell from my haggard appearance how anxious I’ve been over this?”

She frowned, considering his  "haggard" appearance—his perfectly pressed shirt and pants, his almost perfectly coifed hair with the slightly mussed front, the speck of glitter on his perfectly polished shoes.

“Sure, Royal.  Sure.”

“And, voila!”

He flung open the door to Professor Wine’s classroom.  Normally, the room was simply a mechanized death trap meant to test students’ abilities to react to the unpredictable, but Royal had transformed it into something much worse.  Where there was normally a wall of stabbing spears, there was a full shelf of makeup products and crystalline perfume bottles.  Where there were normally rotating jets of fire and water, there was now a full-service salon chair, complete with a broadly-smiling stylist on standby.  Where there was normally a track for moving dummies with automatic rifles, there were racks upon racks of expensive clothes, mirrors, and a divider to change behind.

“Oh, Royal,” Citrine gasped, horrified.  “This is…this is—”

“I know, it’s beyond description!” Royal exclaimed, dragging her further into the room.  Behind them, Torque was already shuffling her feet uncomfortably and Ware was trying to hide his laughter.  “Why else would I have spent all that time to provide you with all the clothes, make-up, and hair-styling expertise you could possibly need to replace your dreary little outfit and make your date absolutely perfect?” 

“But—but—”  She stammered, looking around uncertainly at all the glitz and glam.  “You really didn’t need to do this.  It must have cost a _fortune_.”

Royal laughed, “Oh Citrine, _please_.  This barely cuts into my monthly allowance, and I have Marina on retainer regardless.”

Marina the stylist waved at her pleasantly.

“Um, guys?”  She looked to Ware and Torque for help.

Ware was quick to tease her, saying, “I think it’s a _lovely_ gift, Royal.  Exactly what Citrine needs to spice up her look and give her date a little _zing_.”

Citrine gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.  “Not helping, Ware.”

“Royal, all of this is dumb, and Citrine doesn’t want it,” Torque said flatly.

“Torque, that’s silly,” Royal laughed dismissively.  “That’s silly, right Citrine?”  He looked to his partner and when she hesitated to respond, his expression fell a fraction.  “Right, Citrine?” he repeated, sounding heartbroken.

“No, no, it’s…it’s _fine_ ,” Citrine insisted slowly as she wondered when she started being an emotional babysitter for an overgrown scroll heir.  “It’s fine, Royal, it’s fine.  This is fine.  So…just where do I start with all this?” she asked, gesturing around to the different stations. 

“Outfit first,” Royal said, giving her a push towards the clothes.  As Citrine wandered off through the forest of yellows, oranges, and greens, Royal called after her, “We can build the hair and makeup around that.  You’ll see that I’ve provided colors in your usual register, but also materials and styles of a much higher caliber.  You find a few things you like and try them on.  Go on, go on.”  He then stood back and noticed the judgmental looks on Torque and Ware’s faces.  “Look,” he said good-naturedly, “I know this is a bit much.”

“A _bit_ ,” Ware echoed.  “Sure.  Just like how the smoldering remains of the village of Eijing were a _bit_ overrun by Grimm.”

“It’s simply that Citrine is my partner and my leader, and given the immense amount of respect I have for her, I want her to first date to be as lovely and magical as mine was,” he explained.  He tilted his head back with a wistful expression, saying, “Ahh, I can still remember it clearly…”

“We didn’t ask if you could,” Torque commented, already bored with where this was going.

“I was the heir to a major communications company.  He was the heir to a series of iron mines, which obviously meant he was considered beneath me socially, practically making ours a forbidden romance,” Royal recounted.  “But he had the refinement of at least the heir to a steel manufacturing company and _mmh_ , those steely eyes.”

“So…I’m just gonna go tinker on some of Professor Wine’s death machines,” Torque said.  “I’ve noticed some delayed reactions on Spear #5 and it’s been bugging me.”

“I gave him the Full Mauvello Romance Montage,” he continued.  “Dinner catered by my personal chef, dancing to music performed by a quintet of members from the Atlesian Premier Symphony Orchestra, a private view from atop Atlas Tower…”  He sighed contentedly.  “It was absolutely flawless.” 

“Now, I’m not an expert, but that also sounds like a _bit_ much,” Ware commented.

“No, Ware, _no_ , he assured me he was absolutely blown away by the effort,” Royal insisted, placing a hand on Ware’s shoulder, a gesture Ware quickly stepped out of.  “He told me he couldn’t wait to do it again.”

“Yes?  So, what happened to him?” Ware asked.

“Well,” Royal said, “unfortunately, the very next day, he had to leave the kingdom because his aunt in Vacuo had been eaten by a beowolf, his father needed him to take her place in uncovering an enormous, untapped iron mine, and he was the only one who knew the code to his aunt’s safe which held the directions to the mine and which she used her last breath to make him swear he would never share with anyone.  I never saw him again after that brave sacrifice he made to follow in her footsteps.”

Torque picked her head up from her work to stare at him in disbelief.  “Royal,” she murmured, “that’s—”

Ware cut her off with a sharp motion of his hand.  “Let him dream, Torque,” he told her.  “Let him dream.”

“What about you, Ware?” Royal asked.  “What was your first date like?  Someone like you must certainly have received an immense amount of romantic attention.”

Ware snorted, narrowing his eyes.  “If you want to hear about my dates, you can simply look in any trashy magazine for the details,” he commented.  “They were usually set up by management with contest-winning fans or other lower profile celebrities.  Basically, all of them fame-chasers like Perdita, regardless of their intentions.  Any attachments I was actually willing to consider romantic had to fly below the formal date level.”

Royal frowned at him.  “That sounds awful,” he said.  “Ware, a life without love?  That’s _terrible_.”

Noticing he’d been letting his expression slip, Ware perked up and shrugged.  “I was literally the most loved faunus in Mistral,” he said.  “It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

“No, it’s terrible,” Royal insisted.  “And I promise to you Ware, that as soon as you see the person you find worthy of your romantic affections, I will use the full extent of my wealth and power to ensure that your first date with them is as magical as you can possibly imagine.”

“That’s…”  Ware wanted to respond with his usual snark, but looking into Royal’s eyes, he could tell that he was being completely honest about his proposal, something that really took the edge off his insults.  Despite Citrine’s claims otherwise, she and Royal really were alike when it came to that earnest desire of theirs to do good, and it was gradually endearing both of them to him.  “That’s very kind of you, though I think I can foot my own bills,” Ware said quickly before turning to his partner and saying, “What about you, Torque?  Any first date story from you?”

Torque, who was at that point elbow-deep into the circuitry of Professor Wine’s wall spears, did not look up as she responded, “Romance isn’t my thing.  I tried dating once just to make sure I didn’t like it.  It sucked.  I repeated the date with varying factors like location, activity, and gender to make sure I got conclusive results.  Conclusion: romance isn’t my thing.”

“So…you’ve actually been on a lot of dates?” Ware asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Well,” Torque said matter of factly, “I am a genius and an heir.  Who wouldn’t want a piece of that?”

“Um, guys?”  They all looked up as Citrine stepped out from behind the divider in a knee-length yellow and white-checkered dress with short sleeves.  She still had her brown boots on underneath and was blushing uncertainly.  “How’s this look?” she asked.

Torque and Ware both smiled at her, ready to offer compliments, but as usual, Royal beat them to the punch.  “Citrine, of course that looks lovely on you,” he told her, walking over and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “but we’re aiming for first date fabulous here, not barnyard beautiful.  Now, I specifically set out that dress among others because I knew you would gravitate towards them.  Let me see your other choices and I’ll tell you why they’re wrong, and then I’ll show you what you _should_ be wearing.”

“Should we intervene?” Torque asked as Royal began dragging Citrine up and down the rows of clothes, explaining the value of each one as she complained that some of them were worth more than her parents made in a year.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ware said.  “I can certainly think of less enjoyable ways to spend an evening.”

Torque considered this, then shrugged and went back to giving the spear machines an improved range of motion.

That Saturday, at 1 p.m. sharp, Citrine heard a knocking on her door and walked out casually, as if she hadn’t been standing there waiting for the knock for the past 15 minutes as Royal attempted to last minute coach her on date etiquette.  She had to admit, she’d been feeling oddly anxious about the date.  She hadn’t even been that anxious about her fight in the Vytal prelims.  After all, a fight was something she could train and prepare for.  It was something she was familiar with.  Dating, on the other hand, was uncharted territory, and from what she understood, a lot of it relied on luck.  She was glad when the moment—and Sage—finally arrived.

“Hey there Sage, you ready toooo…whoa.”  Citrine stumbled over her greeting almost immediately, looking Sage up and down.  “You look…different.”

Instead of his usual long coat and pauldrons, he was wearing something that didn’t look too far off from what Ware or Royal would wear.  Sage had on dark green sport coat over a light grey t-shirt that looked a shade too small along with a dark orange scarf and dark, pinstripe pants.  He also had on a smile that didn’t agree with the uncertainty in his eyes.

Realizing her blunder, Citrine quickly amended, “Different in a good way.  You look great.  Not that you don’t look great normally.  Just even greater.  Now.”  She wanted to give him a punch in the arm to soften the blow, but remembered that was on Royal’s list of “Dating No-Nos.”

“Thanks.  My teammates wanted to help me get ready, so they picked out this,” Sage said.  “You also look…good.”

Citrine bit her lip, unable to say if she agreed with him or not.  Royal had ultimately selected for her a dress with a pale yellow, almost white top with short, lacy sleeves and a dark green skirt decorated with delicate pink flowers and vine patterns around the hem.  Outside of her regular braid, her hair was held up and pinned back in an intricate bun.  She was also wearing a pair of infernal devices called “heels” and feeling like she was about to regret every step she took.

“Yeah, my teammates also wanted to… _help_ ,” Citrine said.  They stood there in awkward silence for a moment until they heard another “helpful” thump on the other side of Citrine’s door.  “So, I guess we should get going?” she suggested, pointing down the hall.

“Uh, yeah.  Sounds good,” Sage said and they started off together.

About four seconds of silent, uncomfortable walking later and Citrine abruptly turned to Sage and said, “This is dumb, right?”  He frowned until she gestured at both of them, saying, “We both hate these clothes, right?  Like, I’ve never even seen you wear a shirt outside of your school uniform.”

Sage perked up instantly, laughing as he agreed, “And I didn’t think I’d ever see you caught dead in lace and heels.”

“Right?  These are terrible!”  She grinned up at him broadly and said, “How about we ditch these clown costumes, change back into our own clothes, and get on the ship over to Mistral before our teammates can say otherwise?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sage said.  He spun and raced back down the hall, calling back, “Meet you there!”

Hopping up excitedly, Citrine kicked off her imprisonment sticks and raced back to her own room where, in spite of Royal’s cries of protest and spurred on by Torque’s shouts of encouragement, she tore off the dress and slipped into something a little more comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team RWCT and Team SSSN: Why don't you take off those combat clothes and slip into something a little more...comfortable?  
> Citrine and Sage: I am most comfortable when I am ready to anticipate any possible attack.
> 
> So, there you have it, a little bit of fun, a little bit of background on the rest of Team RWCT. I'm basically trying to pack the good times into this fic knowing what's going down in the next one.


	4. A Very Important Date

Citrine and Sage met up again in their regular combat clothes and in much higher spirits by the eastern docks of Haven.  The school had a series of air buses that regularly made trips back to the mainland, but this was only the second time she had been back since first arriving at school.  The first time had been during the training period before the Vytal prelims, when Royal had insisted that they needed a break and ended up treating his teammates to lunch. With Ware incognito and Royal and Torque almost literally fighting over who would cover the bill, the outing had gone about as well as expected. 

Even then, Citrine had been able to think back on how different the ride over and the city had seemed on her first day, and her circumstances were even more changed now.  Thanks to her claustrophobia, she was still bothered by the confined space of the air bus and the penned in nature of the city streets, but she had learned to cope with it.  She had learned how to not let her irrational fears control her so much.

Unsure of what else to do, Citrine made small talk with Sage on the ride over that day.  They ended up talking about their teammates, mostly focusing on how one specific teammate of theirs had been so insistent on attempting to mold them in their image for the occasion.

“I know you probably already get this, since your teammates tried to put you through the same thing, but I honestly did _not_ want to wear that outfit,” Sage told Citrine.  “It was mostly Neptune’s doing.”

“Yeah, Royal pretty much spearheaded things on my end,” Citrine nodded, smiling up at Sage.  “Like, what is it about these guys trying to get us all gussied up?”

“Actually, I have a theory,” Sage said.  “I don’t know about your guy, but, uh…”  He quickly checked around to make sure no one else was listening, then leaned in and whispered, “Neptune’s been on a bit of a dry streak lately, so this may just be him projecting.”

“What?” Citrine exclaimed gleefully, even as Sage attempted to quiet her down.  “But that guy flirts with everything that moves!  How can he be single?”

“I hardly believe it myself,” Sage said.  “He was always the most popular guy back at Sanctum.  Had a date with someone new almost every weekend.  Since Ware is here though, I guess they have higher standards.”

“Well, that’s just sideways for everyone, since Ware’s not interested in any of those people,” Citrine laughed.  “Oh, don’t tell anyone though.  We’re trying to protect his image.”

“Don’t worry,” Sage assured her.  “I’m good with secrets.”

“You just spilled Neptune’s to me though.”

“Yes, but that one was funny.”

Citrine laughed again and looked ahead through the windows, scoping out the skyline of Mistral.  She realized this was the first time she’d really be able to explore the city, and the prospect was actually a little exciting.  “So, what did you have planned for this…date thing of ours?” she asked, rocking back and forth.

“Well,” Sage said, “what did you want to do?”

She shrugged vaguely.  “I dunno.  I don’t know the area really well,” Citrine said while thinking, _Or what you do on dates_.  “Oh!  Whatever we do, money won’t be an issue,” she added, flashing her wallet.

Sage’s eyes widened at the sight of the tens of thousands of lien, as well as several credit cards.  “Where—”

“I’ve got an heir, an heiress, and a pop star for teammates,” she said cheekily.  “And honestly, I think they get a little competitive sometimes about who’s got deeper pockets.”

“Oh, well.”  He gulped slightly, still staring at the wallet.  “Well, there’s this one restaurant I’ve always wanted to try out.  I’ve heard they make a dessert there with real gold leaf, and you have to buy it by the bite.”

“Let’s try it out then!” Citrine exclaimed.  “With my friends’ credit, we can buy out the bakery!”

The restaurant Sage referred to was Okamai, a two story building around the corner from the busy main street of Mistral.  It was unlike anywhere Citrine had ever imagined.  When her family used to usher around wealthy clients, the types who demanded and were able to pay for private wagons, who were always looking down their noses at the people they hired, even as they risked their lives for them, she’d always known those people must have gone somewhere when they were off the road, but she'd never been able to picture what it could be like.  Apparently, Okamai was that somewhere.

Constructed almost entirely out of wood and fitted with sliding paper doors and spacious windows, it gave the diners a generous view out to the calm streets of the luxury district.  The diners, dressed in dull-toned formal clothes, went about eating bite-sized portions of unrecognizable dishes and making conversation in the controlled tones of those who could afford to let their money do their talking.  Even the maître d’ in his spotless suit seemed classier than Citrine, and he seemed fully intent on keeping her and her date from joining the ranks of his clientele.

“The two of _you_ wish to dine _here?_ ” he asked skeptically after Sage asked for a table.  He looked over Citrine in her t-shirt and dusty jacket and Sage in his armor and open long coat and both of them in their mud-stained boots.  He audibly scoffed.  “I think you are mistaken,” he said. 

“Nope, that’s right,” Citrine insisted.  “We wanna eat here.”

“Do you have a reservation?” the maître d’ asked pointedly.

Citrine frowned, clenching her jaw.  “No, but—”

“I thought not,” he said, looking down his nose at them, a wild accomplishment given that Sage was half a foot taller than him.  “To make a reservation here _alone_ costs 20,000 lien.  Perhaps you could visit the pork bun stand a few blocks away.  That would likely be more in your price range.”  He narrowed his eyes and said, “And in your class.”

“My _what?_ ” Citrine snapped, blood boiling.  She took a step towards the maître d’, saying, “Why you slimy little—” but was cut off when Sage put his arm in front of her.

“Citrine,” he said, smiling congenially, “can I see your wallet for a second?”

“Um, sure.”

Staring down evenly at the maître d’, Sage said, “You know what Star Shot is, right?”

“Of course I do,” he said.  “What fool under a rock doesn’t?”

“And you know about the Monarch Communication Technologies Company?”

“Naturally.”

“And I’m guessing you don’t know about the Usi Parts and Ammo Corporation, since you look like you’ve never held a rifle in your life,” Sage said, a little smugly.  “But trust me, they made about…700 _billion_ lien in profits in the last fiscal year.”

The maître d’ was beginning to lick his lips nervously.  “Yes, and?”

Sage held out the wallet towards him and said, “Pick a card.  Any card.  Whichever you pick, it’ll belong to a major figure in one of those groups.”

It was possibly the coolest move Citrine had ever seen, and she was grinning at it, even as she added, “Except for the yellow one with flowers.  That one’s mine and it's got about 57 lien on it.”

The maître d’ looked at the cards.  Then to the grubby hunters-in-training before him.  Then back to the triple set of ultra double platinum cards.  He licked his lips again.  “R-right this way, my good sir and mademoiselle,” he then said, clasping his hands together and becoming extremely welcoming. 

Citrine was practically skipping with excitement as he led them towards an open table and she gave Sage a nudge with her elbow, whispering, “That was awesoooome.”

Sage gave her a thumbs up and said, “I feel like we’re still getting a lot of weird stares though, even with all your friends’ money.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” she assured him.  “That’s just your aura acting up.”

Meanwhile, the rest of Team RWCT hid outside the restaurant behind a bench, peering intently in at the couple through binoculars.  Or rather, Royal was peering intently, Torque was questioning Royal about the effectiveness of the pair of binoculars she had designed not for this specific occasion, but for one similar, and Ware was sitting beside them in sunglasses and a beanie that covered his fox ears, trying to look as non-descript as possible.

“Ooh, ooh, did you see that?” Royal asked excitedly.  “Did you see the way Sage flashed those cards?  Excellent move, a classic.  My approval rating of him is rapidly rising.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Torque said dismissively.  “Tell me how clearly you saw him flash it though.  Could you see the lien in the wallet?  The names on the cards?”

“Torque, shush, I’m trying to read their lips and see what they’re talking about.”

“You don’t need to listen to read their lips.  Wait!”  Torque pulled out her scroll and began typing rapidly.  “I could try to develop a lip-reading video app to integrate into the lenses.  Royal, can I get some video of you saying every word in the dictionary and a seasonal catalog of slang for comparison?  You have good annunciation.”

“Well, of course, Torque.  Anything to assist my teammates.”

“Guys,” Ware sighed, looking around once again for any sign of recognition of him.  “We’ve already checked up on Citrine and her date.  Can we leave already?  I’m not feeling up to being recognized today.”

“Ware, _no_ ,” Royal insisted, looking over at him.  “We swore—”

“ _You_ swore.”

“—to make Citrine’s date as wonderful as possible and we can’t do that without close monitoring and the occasional course correction.”

“Okay, I understand you want her to have a good time,” Ware said, “but at this point, can’t we just leave it up to them?”

He nodded to the next bench over, where the rest of Team SSSN was similarly crouched and much more collectively engaged in watching their teammate’s date. 

“You guys see Sage pull that chair out for her?” Scarlet asked, a proud look in his eyes.  “Pure class.  My boi Sage is a smooth operator.”

“He’s gotta be if he’s dating Citrine,” Sun snorted.  “I’ve seen what she does to people who are less than ‘class.’  She doesn’t take crap from _anybody_.”

“Okay, is _that_ why she’s going out with him?  Because he’s a pushover?  And I’m just too manly and assertive, right?” asked Neptune, who appeared to be having a bit of an existential crisis.  “Because I hit on her our first day, and I got nada.  And if I can’t even get a girl like Citrine anymore, then _what am I?_ ”

“We can’t leave this up to those buffoons,” Royal insisted to the annoyance of Ware.  “And look, they’ve already reached their awkward phase!  We may have to intervene sooner than I thought.”

The table had been set.  The drinks had been ordered and, after realizing that neither of them could recognize any of the dishes on the menu, Sage had just asked that they be served the daily special, followed by whatever was most expensive off the dessert menu.  The first glasses of water had been poured and then finally, Citrine and Sage had been left alone by their waiter.

They sat in silence, not so much because they didn’t have anything to talk about, but because with so much about each other still a mystery, they didn’t know where to start.  Citrine in particular was abruptly aware of how infrequently she’d been alone with one other person since coming to Haven.  She wasn’t sure how to lead a conversation.

“Sooooo,” Citrine said after taking a sip of water, “Vale, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sage nodded.  “We’ll be heading there soon.”

“You, like, ever been there before?” she asked.

“No,” he said.  “I didn’t leave my village much before I left for Sanctum.  Too many Grimm and not enough money.”

“Oh, yeah.  I get that,” Citrine said.  “Although my family probably would’ve had more money if there were more Grimm.  And I was never really in a village to begin with, so…”  She fumbled her words, saying, “So, actually, I don’t really get that.  Anyway, Vale?  Vytal Festival?  You excited?” Citrine asked, trying to turn it around.

“Yeah, probably more for the travel than the festival itself,” Sage said.

“Seriously, dude?” Citrine said, trying to sound joking to hide her actual annoyance.  “Your team beat out mine for a spot in the tournament and you’re not even interested in it?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Sage told her evenly.  “I’m going to put my best foot forward for Mistral and my team, but it’s still always been more of a dream of mine to travel.”

“Oh.  Oh?”  She blushed, realizing she’d let her temper get ahead of her again.  “How come?”

“Well,” Sage said, “it’s part of the reason I became a hunter in the first place.  See, my great-grandfather had a very different life.  He was a hunter, back before they built the academies, so he traveled all over the world to learn from different masters.  Along the way, he learned stories from all these different people too, stories of how they overcame monsters and fought off the elements and came face to face with gods.  When he settled back in his village, sometimes, those stories were the best he could offer people in trying times.  When we tell them, and hear about how people survived before us, it makes us feel strong and like we can survive too.  So, that’s why I want to travel as a hunter—to hear stories like my great-grandfather and to make my own to share with others.”

Citrine’s eyebrows raised as he finished his story.  “That’s really cool,” she said.  “I never thought about stories like that but yeah, they always made me feel better when I was little too.”

Sage nodded sagely.  “There’s a lot of strength in stories, Citrine.”  Then, he looked at her curiously, and asked, “What about you, then?”

“What about me what?” she asked.

“Well, what made you want to be a hunter?”

“Oh.  I became a hunter so I could help people,” she nodded.  “Y’know, like a hunter does.”

“Yeah, but how?  Do you want to protect one village or travel a lot?  Be a bodyguard for someone important?  Help conduct research on Grimm?” he pressed.  “And just, why?”

“Um,” Citrine said.  “Why?”

“Oh no,” Royal said, watching this go down.  “Leader down, leader down!”

“What’s she doing?” Torque asked.  “Describe in the amount of detail you can see.”

“I think Sage may have asked her something she doesn’t know how to answer, like what fork to use for the salad,” Royal reported.  “She’s stalled out.  Quickly, somebody hand me their scroll.  If I act fast, I can order the restaurant to bring out their appetizers immediately.  Citrine can talk about food, correct?”

Ware watched them with continued exasperation until he noticed a familiar figure approaching rapidly from across the street.  “Um, guys?” he said.  “I think Citrine may have a bigger problem than dinner conversation.”

Back in the restaurant, Citrine was saying, “Well, I guess I started hunting to follow in my parents’ footsteps.”  She could already see a waiter coming their way with their drinks, and was certain that would give her a couple minutes to stall while she tried to remember her why.

Then, she heard a familiar voice behind her, mockingly asking, “So, this is how you spend your time?”

Citrine and Sage, as well as a number of other diners, turned and saw Skull waiting for her, looming tall and looking more haggard than ever.  She glared at him in annoyance.  Sage was more confused than annoyed.  He wasn't used to being tormented by Skull at every turn.

“Skull?” he asked.  “What’re you doing here?”

Skull ignored him altogether, keeping his attention trained on Citrine.  “This is what you do in your free time?” he sneered at her.  “Eating lunch with rich snobs and going on dates with losers?”

“Hey!” Sage exclaimed.

Behind Skull, the door to the restaurant burst open and the rest of her team came running in, much to Citrine’s confusion.  Immediately, the maître d’ attempted to stop them, saying, “Sirs, do you have a reservation?”

Royal, however, simply swung him aside like a kitchen door, saying, “Don’t block me, I’m an heir.”

“What is going on here?” Citrine demanded.

“Citrine, Sage, I am so sorry for the interruption,” Royal apologized, bustling towards Skull.  “I’ll deal with this rude interloper and be—”  He leapt at Skull to tackle him, but only went flying forward when he turned intangible, crashing into an open chair before him.

“Pathetic,” Skull scoffed at him.  He looked back at Torque and Ware, waiting uneasily nearby.  “Either of you wanna try?”  They didn’t move.  “No?  I didn’t think so.”  He looked back to Citrine, straight over Sage, and said, “Your team’s as pathetic as ever and you’re wasting your time on some guy you beat with a trick he should’ve seen coming a mile away.  How did I ever lose to someone like _you?_ ”

Sage abruptly stood up, knocking his chair to the floor.  Around him, other diners were already beginning to edge away nervously.  “Skull, we’re trying to have a nice, _peaceful_ lunch here,” he said, narrowing his eyes.  “If you don’t get that, then you need to leave.”

“Or what?” Skull asked.  “You’re gonna make me?”

He took a step forward until Citrine appeared at his side.  She held her scroll out to him.  “6-6-1-2,” Citrine told him.  “Dial that when we’re out of the restaurant.”

Sage looked down at her curiously and saw a familiar expression—a wild grin and a look of intense determination.  He couldn’t help but think it was a good look, something that looked natural on her.  He had seen that look before, but only when she was squaring up to fight him in the prelims.  He nodded.  “Kick his ass, Citrine,” Sage said.  “I’ve got your scroll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Skull! Why you gotta ruin everything?
> 
> (Go Cubs!)


	5. What I Want

Citrine and Skull sat uncomfortably close together on the curb outside of Okamai with Team SSSN and the rest of Team RWCT seated on the benches nearby.  The two of them were both in a state of disarray, Citrine’s braid a mess and Skull’s spiked collar half ripped off his neck and both of their clothes dirty and torn.  The street around them was in a similarly disastrous state.  The door to Okamai was hanging off its hinges, having been smashed open.  There were gouges and craters in the pavement where their weapons had scored along and they had smashed each other into it.  An entire tree was shriveled to a husk from the life Citrine had stolen from it.  There were also two rocket lockers lodged in the street.

And Professor Lautrec, who had come across the fight between students while out shopping for a new Sunday sundress, was furious.

“I have never in my career as a teacher seen a pair of students so reckless, so arrogant, and so selfish as to cause such destruction so close to civilians!” she shouted, pacing back and forth.  “I don’t even need to ask what you were thinking, because it was clearly _nothing!_   No other rational thoughts could lead you to endanger the people it is your entire purpose to protect.”

Citrine’s face was flushed with shame as Professor Lautrec lectured her and Skull like children caught playing ball in the house.  She was full of unresolved fury as well, since she hadn’t been able to properly beat Skull before Lautrec had broken up their fight, and since he had remained silent since.  He simply sat there, stewing away.

“I am extremely disappointed in both of you.  Haven expects more from its students, particularly those we select as leaders,” Lautrec said.  “There will be serious consequences for both of you.”

“What?” Citrine exclaimed.  “But _he_ attacked _me_.”

Lautrec shot a chilling look at her and the ground around her feet literally began to freeze over.  “Vermoss, you are equally responsible for engaging and escalating,” she snapped.  “You also destroyed property belonging to the most expensive restaurant in the kingdom.”

“The restaurant’s _fine_ though,” she protested.  

"Like, aside from the door," Sun pointed out.

“Um, Citrine?” Ware called over to her.  “I think she also means the tree.”

Citrine stared at the crumpled tree in confusion.  “Trees are property?”

“Yes,” Lautrec said.  “And you’ll be spending your next four Sunday mornings in detention with me to make up for it.”

“Detention?” she demanded.

At that, Skull finally deigned to look at her and spat out a sour, “ _Ha._ ”

“You’re in no position to be laughing, Muinarc,” Lautrec said, rounding on him.  “Your attack on another student in a public space is only your most recent offense.  That, combined with your absence from my seminars and your lackluster performance in your other classes, means you are on academic probation.”

Skull glared at her, snorting, “Meaning what?”

His feet were frozen to the ground as Lautrec loomed over him, saying, “Meaning if you miss one more class, or exercise, or any of the detentions with me for the rest of the semester, then you will be _expelled_ from Haven.”

That shut him down quickly, and he returned to glaring at the pavement, even as the frost melted off his feet.

Citrine was about to turn and “Ha” at him as well before she caught something Professor Lautrec had said.  “Wait,” she said.  “He’s getting detention with you too?”  She nodded.  “Professor, no!  Skull and I—”

“You and Muinarc have been squabbling like a pair of jackdaws since day one,” Professor Lautrec said.  “I will not allow your rivalry to further divide your classmates.  Perhaps eight hours together will allow you to resolve your differences, starting tomorrow, 8 a.m. sharp.  Understood?”  Both of them nodded.  “Good,” she said.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”  Professor Lautrec picked up her shopping and skipped off down the street.

Skull immediately got up and stormed off in the opposite direction.

Citrine was left hanging her head between her knees and muttering, “Ugh.  Ugh, ugh, ughhhh.”  How had she managed to screw things up again?  She’d thought she was done letting Skull get under her skin, and yet here she was again, messing up her studies because—

“Ahem.”

She looked up and saw Sage hovering above her, holding a hand out.  “I’m guessing the restaurant won’t take us back now no matter how much we pay,” he said.  “So, how does that pork bun stand around the corner sound?”

Feeling bad enough already for interrupting their date, Citrine quickly stowed her baggage, smiled up at him, and took his hand.  “Sounds great, Sage.”  She also quickly rounded on their teammates and snapped, “And can you not stalk us this time?”

Taking off from there, Citrine walked around the city with Sage doing things that were apparently date things.  They finally got lunch at the pork bun stand, then crepes at a crepe stand, eating both of them while wandering around the streets.  They went to the park and watched a demonstration for some experimental windcutters—miniature, mechanical sailboats that must have used an advanced form of the technology Reese used in her hoverboard.  They had a competition to see who could get to the roof of the Whisk Advertising building first.  It was Sage, but only, Citrine contested, because his height advantage put him a foot ahead of her, and when they were up there, they looked up and out over the city.

Citrine found her breath taken away, standing there.  Stretching out for miles around her was the art and grandeur Mistral, the culmination of thousands of years of human struggle and development.  She thought about how truly fortunate she was to be able to stand there in that moment.  Quickly enough, however, she realized that her warm glow in regards to the moment had little to do with who she was sharing it with.

Sage seemed to have realized this as well.  Bathed in the glow of the early autumn sunset, he said, “Hey, Citrine?”

“Yeah?” Citrine said.

“You had a good time today, right?”

“Really good, actually.”

“But not really a good time with me specifically, right?”

Citrine frowned up at him and insisted, “That’s not true.  I really liked getting to know you, Sage.  And I like getting lunch with you—both times—and I liked going to the park with you and I liked seeing the city with you—”

“But you _loved_ fighting Skull,” he pointed out.  “I never saw you more interested today than when you were squaring off against him.”  Even as she blushed, he smiled good naturedly and shrugged, “It’s okay, I get it.  I mean, I probably could’ve guessed you were that kind of girl from the start, but I had to give it a shot.  It was worth it to get to know you, even if it didn’t work out date-wise.”

Her stomach crumpled up out of guilt as she tried to find the right thing to tell him.  “I really do like you,” she said even though the words felt hollow, like giving out a consolation prize.  “You’re strong and you’ve got a cool head and you’ve got a fantastic dream that I really hope you get to achieve someday.  It’s just…” 

It was just that there was truth in what Sage had said, that the prospect of fighting Skull had excited her more than anything else that day.  While she had enjoyed everything else, clashing weapons and exchanging blows and fighting desperately to put herself on top of that slimy bastard had lit a fire in her, and despite everything she had said about not wanting to see him again, Citrine couldn’t deny that she was hungry to get her hands on him.

“I’m sorry, Sage,” she apologized at last.  “I think I may just be too focused on proving my strength right now to be able to get into dating and romance.”

Sage nodded understandingly.  “I thought as much,” he said.  “And it’s probably the right decision for you.”

“Seriously, dude?”

Citrine and Sage jumped as from behind the stairs to the roof stepped out the rest of Team RWCT and Team SSSN.  Neptune made a beeline for Sage in an agitated huff, snapping, “That’s what you got from all that?  Come on!  You’re letting all of us down, man!” 

As he grabbed Sage’s arm and began to drag the confused boy away, Scarlet stepped up to his side as well, reassuring him, “It’s okay, we’ll make it work next time.  There’s got to be _loads_ of girls at the tournament who’ll be throwing themselves at you.”

Sage stared back at Citrine even as her teammates clustered around her.  “Wanna get lunch next week?” he called out.

“Um, sure!” Citrine called out, laughing.  “See you then!”

And then Team SSSN disappeared down the stairs, leaving Citrine with her own people once again.  She let out a sigh that was one part relief, one part disappointment.

“Well,” Royal huffed, standing over her with his arms crossed, “you have a lot of explaining to do, Miss Vermoss.  All that back breaking work I put into setting up that lovely date for you and you simply—you simply…”  It was then he noticed Torque glaring at him, her toolbox half-raised to swing, and that he was standing very close to the edge of the roof of a 20-story building.  “Y-you simply decide that he wasn’t the right choice for you,” he course corrected, scooting around to a less precarious position.  “Very wise, very smart.”

“It wasn’t him, I don’t think,” Citrine said, staring at the ground.  “I think it was me.  He was great and I just…couldn’t get into it.”

“Well, that’s how it usually goes when you go into a date without feelings for a person,” Ware told her.  “You come out the other side feeling just the same.  You can’t expect to find yourself over the moon because he pulled out your chair and gave you the strawberry off his crepe.”

“He was right about me and Skull though,” she murmured.  “I was so much more interested in fighting him than just trying to take our date somewhere else.  I feel like I let him down.”

Torque hit her in the leg with Výthisi.  “It’s not your fault,” she insisted.  “You’ve got other priorities.  That’s fine.”

It didn’t feel fine.

“And if you find yourself struck by the urge to date again, I’m sure I’d be able to find the perfect candidate for you in no time,” Royal volunteered valiantly.  “Now, I’m not saying it has to happen immediately, but just give it a thought—Jean Gormlaith from Team BLUJ?  Seems a very sensible sort, you two get along well.  Wouldn’t you like that, Citrine?”

Would she?  She wasn’t sure. 

Citrine led her team down through the building and out through the streets of Mistral towards the docks that would lead them back to Haven.  Feeling slightly despondent as they waited there for the next bus back, she stared around aimlessly until something purple and grey taped to a nearby shed caught her eye.  She wandered over to examine it before realizing it was a poster announcing the opening of Kaijumura.

She perked up as she remembered that was on her horizon.  Her first official job as a hunter, and it would have nothing to do with failed dates or competing with Skull.  Just her and her trusted team standing as guards as Mistral took a monumental step forward as a kingdom.  Citrine smiled.  Now _that_ , she knew she liked the sound of.

 Someone stepped up beside Citrine to examine the poster as well, another school-aged young woman.  Although she was fairly short and petite, Citrine thought she looked old enough to be a fourth year.  The girl had dark skin and black hair that ran down into a red ombre.  She also had a large pair of fire-red wings on her back.

“It’s seems almost too good to be true,” the girl commented in a small, sweet voice as she smiled intently at the poster.  “A new city that large for Mistral.”

“Um, yeah,” Citrine laughed nervously.  “It’s hard to believe we get to see it in just a few days.”

“You know what everyone’s been saying about it, right?” the girl asked.  “That this city can’t be destroyed.  That it’s impenetrable.”  She shot a sideways grin at Citrine, saying, “Really be awful if they had to put that to test right away.”

She frowned.  “Well, of course it would be,” Citrine said.  “They built Kaijumura to keep people safe and give them a home.  It’d be a disaster if Grimm got in on the first day.”

“Oh.”  The girl tilted her head curiously.  “Of course.”  She turned and offered her hand to Citrine saying, “I’m Ember.  Visiting from out of kingdom for the opening.”

Citrine shook it, noticing a folded up iron fan at Ember’s hip.  She pegged her immediately as a recent graduate of one of the other hunting academies, traveling to see the world’s sights before settling into a real job.  Given that, she couldn’t help but brag a little.  “I’m Citrine,” she said, “and I’ll be guarding Kaijumura on opening day.”

“That’s quite impressive, Citrine,” Ember said, nodding approvingly.  “All the luck to you, although I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“Aw,” Citrine laughed.  “Thanks.”

“Citrine, hurry up!” Ware called behind her.  “The air bus is here.”

“Coming!” she called over her shoulder.  “Anyway, it was nice to—”  She looked back to Ember to ask if she could meet her again at Kaijumura’s opening.

Ember, however, was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh~disappearing faunuses~ooooh~  
> #2spooky


	6. What He Wants

Professor Lautrec set a book titled “A Brief History of Early Southern Mistral” and a stack of blank paper before Citrine and Skull, seated half way across the room from each other in the front row of her classroom.  Standing before the pair, she said, “You will spend the next two hours taking notes on chapters 3-8 of this book which cover the rise, the civil war, and the resulting fall of the village of Kailoshin.  Hopefully, this will teach you a lesson on the ramifications of disunion amongst allies.  Is that understood?”

Citrine, who had been punished frequently in the past for disobeying orders, simply bowed her head and mumbled, “Yes, professor.”  More often than not, at least acting like you felt remorse got your punishment lightened.  Burying your ego was a major part of selling that.  She only really felt annoyed at the situation when she noticed Skull already reclining with his feet up on the desk.

Professor Lautrec nodded.  “I’ll be out of the room for most of the period, but I’ll be checking on you on the hour,” she said.  “And I expect you to work quietly and _peacefully_ in the meantime.”

“Yes, professor,” Citrine repeated.  Skull snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Looking back and forth between the feuding first years, Lautrec’s gaze softened slightly.  “And I just want you to know,” she added, “that I know full well what it’s like to have a serious conflict with your comrades.  I also know what it’s like for a conflict with your comrades to lead to disaster.  Please know that I only wish to prevent such disaster in your futures and to make you understand that there is no room for in-fighting in our line of work.  Hunters are meant to quell chaos and strife, not sew it.” 

With that, she gave both of her students a respectful nod and walked out of the room.

She had barely been out of the room for five seconds before Skull kicked his book and papers off the desk, scattering them across the floor.

It was too much.  She snapped.  “What is _wrong_ with you?” Citrine shouted, slamming her hands on the desk and glaring over at him.  “Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”

Skull lazily swung his head around to look at her and said, “Sure, _I’m_ the one who makes things difficult.”

She stared at him in confusion.  “Of course it’s you!  You haven’t made anything easy for anyone since day one,” Citrine said.  “You’re the one who’s been antagonizing me.  You’re the one who’s been making fun of my team at every turn.  You’re the one who’s been picking a fight with every single person you think is in your way just to try to make yourself King Asshole around here.  It’s no wonder no one can stand your face.”

Citrine was expecting sneers.  She was expecting snide comments.  She was expecting him to smoothly summon his weapon locker and jump at her again, and she was ready and willing to fight if it came to that. 

She wasn’t expecting him to get up and head towards the door.

“Wait,” Citrine called after him uncertainly.  “Where are you going?  What are you doing?”

There was that sneer.  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked.  “I’m leaving.”

“Okay, but Professor Lautrec, she said if you miss detention, you’re getting expelled,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” he shrugged.  “I’m done with this garbage school full of ambitionless losers.”

Citrine was stunned.  That statistic Torque had shared with her on the first day rattled around her head.  One in twelve students dropped out from Haven.  She’d known, of course, that it would eventually come to be someone in her class.  A number of someones, in fact.  But she’d never thought it would be herself or anyone on her team, and she’d never _hoped_ it would be anyone she was close to, even if they were on Team SCUL.

It was such a shock, all she could ask at first was, “Why?”  Then that “why” quickly evolved into, “Why would you leave?  What are you going to do?  What about your team?”

“In order?  One, don’t wanna be here.  Two, don’t know.  Three, don’t care.”

“You _can’t_ leave.”

Skull turned and leaned against the wall.  “Why, Sunshine,” he said mockingly.  “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” Citrine insisted instantly, standing up.  “I just think your team deserves better than to be abandoned by a leader who didn’t want to put in the work.”

His expression darkened.  “My team _deserves?_ What do _they_ deserve?  What do I owe to a bunch of weaklings who set me up to be humiliated?  They can spend the next four years rotting here, ruining someone else's command for all I care.”

“What did they owe to you in the first place?” Citrine demanded, remembering what Professor Quildrake had told her.  “Why should they have done anything for you if you wouldn’t do anything for them?”

“Because I’m their damn leader,” he growled, “and if I’m stronger than them, then they should do what I say.  And they didn’t.  They decided to act like a bunch of idiots and lose me my spot in the tournament.”

“Leadersip doesnt work that way.  It's give and take.  You can’t just treat them like a bunch of droids that need to follow you mindlessly!” she shouted at him.  “They’re _people_.  They all have their own hopes and dreams and reasons to be here, and if they didn’t want to follow your orders, they probably had a good reason.”

“Their reason was that they wanted to see me fail.  After that, I don’t care what they want,” Skull said.  “I’m not interested in serving their interests if they can’t get me what _I_ want.”

“Well, what do you want then?” she asked.  “We’ve only been at Haven for two months.  There’s no way you have what you came here for already.  You must have a reason to stay here too.”

Skull hesitated a moment at that.  Then, he let out a small, almost inaudible sigh.  “I wanted to beat Pyrrha Nikos,” he said, “and I’ve already lost the possibility of doing that three times.  One, when she decided to attend Beacon instead of Haven.  Two, when my team proved itself so worthless, it couldn’t even get me through the prelims.  And three.”  He locked his dark red eyes onto Citrine.  “Three, when I learned I couldn’t even beat someone like you.” 

As his words fell between them, Citrine held his gaze, and a second too late, she realized what she felt for him and what she was looking at him with was pity.  Skull seemed to notice this a second before she did, because his lip curled with disgust, with him turning once again and storming towards the door.

There was no way she could physically stop him, she knew that.  It was one thing to stop him from using his intangibility to attack her, something else entirely to stop him from using it to get away.  Her brain whirring into half-logic overdrive, Citrine shot over her desk towards perhaps the one thing in the room that could keep him from leaving—Professor Lautrec’s desk.

 _Please be here,_ she thought, rifling through the drawers quickly.  _Please be here, please be here, please be—_

“To be strong enough to conquer everything, even death.”

Skull froze in place, hand reaching towards the doorknob.  Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder and found Citrine standing by Lautrec’s desk, a few index cards in hand.  He narrowed his eyes at her in a venomous glare and said, “Put it back.”

Citrine tilted her chin up to show she wasn’t afraid.  “This is your card, isn’t it?  From the first day of classes when Professor Lautrec asked us to write down why we wanted to be hunters,” she said.  "You wrote this."

“I said,” Skull growled, facing her fully, “put it back.”

“Why?” she goaded him.  “Because it doesn’t actually say ‘Beat Pyrrha Nikos’ on here?  Because this makes you look like you came here with bigger dreams than that, and now you’re chickening out because you realized they were just too big?”

“Because it doesn’t matter to you!” he barked.  He looked unlike Citrine had ever seen him before; still angry, but not in a manic or desperate way.  Instead, he for once seemed defensive, guarded.  “Because it doesn’t matter what I put on a piece of paper!”

“It does!” Citrine exclaimed.  “This is why you became a hunter.  This is your soul, Skull!  And it’s not something you’ll ever have if you walk out that door today.”

Skull clenched his fists, practically vibrating with frustration as he shouted, “Then I'll never have it!  What does it matter to you anyway?  Why do you care?  If I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you, then why don’t you let me just walk away?”

“Because you make me better!” she shouted.  Even as Skull blinked in confusion, taken aback, Citrine plowed on, “Because I’m always comparing myself to you.  You challenge me, even when you ignore me.  If I can’t beat you, then I know I need to train more.  If my team scores worse than yours, then I know we need to work together better.  Even if I’m ahead of you in everything, I can literally feel your eyes on the back of my neck at all times and I know I need to keep moving to stay ahead.  It matters to me that you stay here because you’re my rival, Skull.”  Citrine gulped, swallowing her pride, as she admitted, “And you make me stronger.”

As he considered this and considered Citrine, Skull was silent for a long moment, perhaps the longest he had ever gone without threatening or mocking her.  But of course, all good things must come to an end, and Skull’s silence did as a smirk crept onto his face.  “You know, Sunshine,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “that’s pretty pathetic, even for you.  I mean.”  He snorted.  “Are you really so unmotivated, you can’t find any reason other than wanting to punch my face to get stronger?”

 _You know,_ Citrine thought, even as she began to smile, _I would really like to help someone for once who doesn’t instantly end up insulting me._

But still.

“Oh, I’m not unmotivated,” she assured him jokingly.  “It’s just that your face is so punchable, it’s easy for that to take over as the driving force.”

Skull laughed, once, before uncertainty crept into his expression again.  “Look,” he said, approaching her, “I’ve gotta admit, putting you in your place and watching you flounder at the slightest hint of pressure is becoming one of my favorite past times too, but don’t flatter yourself.  You’re not _that_ big of a draw.  I can’t exactly stay here and lead a worthless team of losers that won’t be led just because of you.”

“Well,” she sighed, “it’d probably help if you stopped calling them things like ‘worthless’ and ‘losers.’”

“Well, I can’t very well—”

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t stop calling them worthless losers until they stop being worthless losers.  Whatever,” Citrine said dismissively, already familiar with his script, as she put her head down to think.  “And you’ll only stop seeing them as worthless losers if they start following your orders again.  And they’ll only start following your orders again if you…if you…”  Her voice trailed off in thought—thought that was slightly distracted by realizing this was the closest she and Skull had ever stood together without attempting to harm each other.

“Before you even suggest anything, I’m not doing shit your way,” Skull said straight off the bat as he snatched his index card from her hands.  “None of that lovey-dovey friendship crap you’ve got going on with your losers.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Citrine said.  “That was never on the table for you.” 

It was then she realized the rest of Team SCUL’s cards were there beneath Skull’s.  Even though it felt like a bit of a breach of confidence, she couldn’t resist flipping through them.  On Carmine’s, in big, loopy letters and adorned by a doodle of a dragon, there were the words, “To wage war on the forces of evil!!!”  In Umbra’s quick, sloppy scrawl, there was, “To see that this world isn’t eaten away by the cruel and the disloyal.”  In Lux’s small, neat print, “To ensure I am not a pox on those I love.”

Citrine read the cards.  Then, she handed them to Skull.  “They’ve got dreams just like you,” she repeated as he looked them over.  “They’ve all got reasons to be here.”

“I could’ve told you that much,” he snorted, even though the more thoughtful look on his face seemed to indicate all the information on the cards was new to him.  “What’s that mean for me, though?”

“It means,” Citrine said, grinning at him excitedly, “that you’ve got everything you need to make yourself your dream team.”

Despite, or perhaps _because_ of the hopefulness of her suggestion, Skull cringed and said, “Yeah, you’re gonna have to tone it down with all that ‘dream’ talk, Sunshine.”

“Shut up, Numbskull.  We’re doing this.”

That morning, Professor Lautrec returned at both 9 a.m. and 10 a.m. to find her students hard at work and with their heads down.

And that night, Carmine, Umbra, and Lux walked together through the forest on Haven’s hills, discussing the strange text messages they’d received from friends of theirs. 

“So you got something from Torque telling you to come out here?” Umbra asked Carmine.

“Uh-huh,” Carmine nodded, smiling broadly as ever despite the darkness and the strangeness of the situation.  “She said she had a new seismograph for detecting tsunamis and she needed me to help test it out!”

“Huh,” Umbra said, scratching her head in confusion.  “I got one from that Ware guy saying there was a new faunus networking club meeting out here tonight.”  She scowled and said, “Shoulda known that guy would never be interested in something like that.  What about you, Lux?”

Lux nodded.  “Not a text, but Royal caught me before dinner this evening and engaged me in a lengthy conversation about how much he respects my poise and sophistication, and wanted me to meet him out here tonight to help model a dress he planned to gift to a nearby business contact,” she explained.  “Now, I instantly realized that was total nonsense, asking _me_ to model dresses out in the woods, but I was curious to see what this was really about.”

Umbra shook her head.  “Those RWCT guys are such weirdos,” she said.  “So who knows?”

“Oh, _we_ know.” 

The rest of Team SCUL jumped in surprise as before them, a pair of torches lit up, bringing to light the figures of Team RWCT.

“Torque!” Carmine exclaimed happily, rushing over to her friend.  “There you are!  Where’s the new devicey of yours?  I’m really excited to—”

“Sorry,” Torque cut her off bluntly.  “There’s no new seismograph yet.  I lied.”

Carmine’s face fell instantly.  “What?  But why?”

“Yeah, Citrine,” Umbra said, folding her arms.  “Why’d your team call us out here tonight?”

“Well,” Citrine said leadingly, “we just thought it might be fun for the teams to have a joint practice session.”

“We?”  Umbra exchanged a concerned look with Lux.  “You don’t mean—”

“That’s right, Ire.”

They spun as behind them, Skull stepped out from the shadows as well.  Umbra noted, it was not the wretched-looking Skull who had spent all his time since their loss in the prelim skulking around and avoiding so much as looking at his teammates, but an apparently rejuvenated Skull—one with a new fire in his blood red eyes and the return of that manic grin that always seemed to spur those around him to action, one way or another.

“It’s capture the flag on the menu tonight,” Skull announced to his teammates as he drew a skull-emblazoned handkerchief from his pocket.  “And just in case there were any doubts, let me make it clear—we are going to kick their asses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Let's just say this is a really good chapter to get out, to help pin down what exactly it is that Citrine and Skull see in each other that makes them butt heads over and over again.
> 
> I mean, part of it's that "wanting to help people" thing in her, but let's just face it, Citrine. You're never going to Skull out from under your skin. That's just where skulls are :)
> 
> And it's just nice to see them actually start to get along.


	7. CTF

Before coming to Haven Academy, there had been numerous times in Lux’s life when she had felt she was in immediate danger of being either maimed or murdered.  As a result, she had built up a strong sense with her aura for when danger from other humans was imminent.  As Skull led Carmine, Umbra, and Lux into the dark of the woods in the middle of the night, her sense for danger hadn’t quite activated, but she had a prickling feeling that they were one misstep away from utter disaster.

Or perhaps that was just her.

Umbra seemed to agree with the former.

“Don’t think this means we’re giving you a free pass, Muinarc,” Umbra growled.  She was watching his back, but not in a supportive way.  More in a “figuring out where she herself would stick the knife” kind of way.  “We’re only playing along because Carmine wants to.”  Umbra looked over to the red-head who was skipping alongside Skull, and demanded, “Why are you so into this anyway?”

“Because it’s capture the flag, Umbra!” Carmine exclaimed.  “This was like, my favorite game back home and I haven’t played it since I moved to Mistral!”

“Well fine, if you want to play, we can do that on our own,” Umbra insisted.  “Not with those weirdos on Team RWCT, and not with him.”

“Aw, come on, Umby,” Carmine said.  “I know you’re mad at him, but why can’t we just have fun with him tonight?”

“Because he doesn’t care about us,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “He used you as bait against Professor Lu and he left Lux to be hunted down by those spidrens.  If that’s how he treats us in practice, how do you think he’ll treat us in the field?”

Umbra was starting to grow tired of explaining this to her teammates.  She’d barely been able to convince Lux and Carmine that it would be just for them to abandon Skull in the Vytal prelims—that for being such an awful leader, he didn’t deserve to get what he wanted.  Lux still seemed to have conflicted loyalties and Carmine wanted to forgive him already. 

“He messed up,” Carmine shrugged.  “We all do.  Like that time—Umbra, do you remember that time I washed your white tank tops with my red shorts and they all turned pink?  That was a big mistake!  But now I know not to do it again!”

“Yeah, well I don’t feel much like betting my life on whether he’s learned his lesson or not,” Umbra growled.

“Not to intrude on this private conversation,” Lux said, “but you do realize that Skull is literally right beside us and can hear every word we’re saying, correct?”

Umbra’s nostrils flared as she stared at Skull’s back again.  “That’s what I was hoping for,” she spat.  “If I think he’s a disloyal asshole and I don’t feel like following him, then I want him to hear that.  You hear that, Muinarc?” she called out loudly, making Lux flinch with the potential of conflict.

Skull, who had been silent since they parted ways with Team RWCT, lazily called back, “I hear ya, Ire.  Loud and clear.”

Lux looked at him curiously.  That seemed like a very un-Skull-like response.  “And that’s…okay with you?” she asked.

“What?  No!” he snapped.  “You’re dead-ass wrong if you think I’m not the best leader for you idiots.  We’re just playing this so I can prove it and so you’ll all stop whining about it.”

“Yeah?” Umbra said skeptically.  “And if you don’t prove it?”

“Well.”  Skull glanced back at them, perhaps a more level expression on his face than Lux had had ever seen.  “If I don’t, then I may not be your leader for that much longer,” he said.

Lux raised her eyebrows in surprise, as did Umbra, who seemed, if anything, impressed.  “Well then,” Umbra said, smirking.  “Now I’m interested.”

“Good,” Skull nodded.  “I’m going to need your full attention if we’re going to win this.”

Lux hung back a bit as always, watching as Skull picked up the pace, taking the lead, Umbra followed him with a renewed energy, and Carmine happily skipped along towards their base for the game.  Despite the innocent nature of this capture the flag exercise, Lux had a feeling that for better or for worse, it was going to change the course of Team SCUL’s future.

They arrived a little later at another pair of torches.  In-between them stood a white flag painted with Skull’s emblem in black.  “Here’s how we’re gonna do this,” Skull said, standing beside the flag and looking over his teammates.  “This here’s our flag.  There’s one with Citrine’s emblem in the area too.  That place we started is at the middle point between them.  It’s also the goal.  Those losers on Team RWCT are going to try to take our flag and get it to the goal to win.”  He narrowed his eyes and once again took on that grin of manic determination Lux had begun to think he’d lost.  “But we’re not gonna let them.”

“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out,” Umbra said sarcastically, folding her arms.  “So just how are we gonna do that, oh great leader of ours?”

“To start with, we’re splitting up between offense and defense,” Skull explained.  “Umbra and Lux, you’re coming with me to take their flag.  Carmine is staying here to defend ours.”

“What, with this again already?” Umbra growled.  “Throwing Carmine to the beowolves while you go grab the glory?”

“You think I just do all this shit to be an asshole, Ire?” Skull snapped at her.  “Ever heard of strategy?  Citrine’s conservative in how she moves when her team is concerned.  She’s going to split her forces evenly.  If we attack her two dinky guards with the three of us, we can easily take their flag.”

Internally, Lux found herself agreeing with this assessment, but when she looked to Umbra for her opinion, she saw that her partner was not eager to back down.  “If that’s true, then she’s still coming here with two,” she said.  “What makes you think Carmine can hold up alone against that?”

“Carmine’s practically a force of nature.  Pretty sure she can take care of herself,” Skull said.  “And hey, Carmine?  Remember how you’re always talking about wanting to be a hero and protect the innocent or whatever?”

“I sure do!” Carmine exclaimed, drawing her sword excitedly. 

“Now’s your time to practice,” he said.  “Be a hero and defend our innocent flag from the horrible invaders.”

Carmine’s eyes lit up and she danced in place, giggling, “Eeeheehee!  I thought you’d never ask, Skully!”

“See?  She’s got it.  Any more objections?”  Lux held her breath for a moment, only releasing it when Umbra, scowling, made no move to contest this.  She was, however, surprised when Skull next turned his gaze onto her and said, “Lux, tell me who you think’s going to be on defense.”

She had offered him council many times before, but this was perhaps the first time he had, in a manner, asked for it.  Thankfully, she was ready to give him an answer.  Lux was always seeking ways to appease those in charge, and since Skull seemed so fixated on Citrine and her team, it seemed only natural that she do so as well. She could predict Citrine's strategies almost as well as she could Skull's.

“Ware will almost certainly be there,” she said, standing up straighter.  “He performs best when stationary, so he can serve them best defensively.  I would wager on Torque as well.  She is, of course, the more proficient of their shield-users, and her semblance makes her suited towards guarding, while Royal’s makes him suited towards mobilizing.”  With Skull’s eyes trained on her intently, she couldn’t help but add, “And of course, Citrine would be unlikely to remain in place for this game.  She will, inevitably, come for our flag.”

This appeared to please Skull, and so Lux felt pleased as well.  “Good,” he said.  “Carmine, be as big a brute as you can.  You can outmatch her like that.  That lilac-coated wimp of hers won’t come close if he sees his mommy losing ground.  Umbra, Lux, we—”  Skull was cut off as a buzz was emitted by his scroll.  “That’s the signal to start,” he said, heading off into the darkness.  “We’ll talk strategy on the way.”

Halfway across the forest, the three members of team Skull found another pair of torches.  Between them stood a yellow flag with Citrine’s emblem on it in green.  Torque stood there as well, thumbing through her scroll.

From the line of trees beyond the scope of the torches’ light, Umbra stared at her in confusion.  “What is she doing?” she demanded in a hushed tone.  “And where’s Ware?”

“Respectively, examining specs on the recently released windcutter, and hiding in the trees,” Lux said.  “If I had to guess.”

“We know around where to aim then,” Skull said, pulling out Charnel Yield in its rifle form.  “Lux, take left.”

Lux nodded and drew her own Mediadem in its form of twin SMGs.  As soon as Skull gave the signal, they opened fire on the trees above the flag, sending a barrage of bullets into its branches.  To their surprise, there was no movement other than what their own attack created, no fox faunus either leaping up to avoid the attack or crashing to the ground, injured.  Moreover, Torque didn’t even flinch, continuing to flip through her scroll listlessly.

“What the hell?” Umbra asked as her teammates let up their attack.  “Then where—”

“Wrong tree,” a voice unnervingly close behind Lux said.  A chill ran up her spine as she felt the cold tip of an arrow press against the back of her neck and she only risked a glance back to see that Ware had arrived and was smiling around amicably at her team.  “Hello everyone,” he greeted them.  “Pleasant evening for this, isn’t it?”

Umbra bristled instantly, clenching her fists and growling, “If you so much as think of firing that arrow, I will—”

“You’ll beat me to a pulp, tear off my ears, send me off crying to my foxhole,” Ware said, sounding unimpressed in a way that made Umbra’s lizard tail lash in agitation.  “You of all people should know I’ve heard that whole spiel before.  Anyway, I won’t have to even think about firing it if you three will simply wait around peacefully while my friends retrieve your flag.”

Even in the chilly night air, Lux began to sweat.  She could remember situations like this back home, and she could remember that the threats of the hostage taker rarely leant her as much fear as the threat of what awaited her in safe hands.  The prospect of what Skull had in store for her if she ruined this for him was not encouraging, especially when he began to swagger towards Ware, laughing, “Go ahead, shoot!”

Ware narrowed his eyes in annoyance, though not without a hint of confusion.  “I should have expected as much from you,” he hissed, pulling his bow further back a fraction.

“Skull, you piece of shit,” Umbra growled at him.  “Just when I thought—”

“Shut it, Umbra,” Skull called back at her.  “I’m handling this.  After all.”  He aimed his rifle at Ware’s head as well.  “He can’t shoot all of us.”

Blanching in the face of the gun, Ware pressed the arrow harder against Lux’s neck and insisted, “But I _can_ shoot Lux.  If you take one step closer, I _will_ shoot her.”

“Ooh, and then what?” Skull snorted.  “You think you can draw again faster than I can shoot?  Face it, your exit strategy depends on the idea that I would have anyone on my team I’d risk my win for to get them out of trouble.  If you know me,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “you should know I don’t accept those who can’t help themselves.”

While this seemed to infuriate Umbra to the point where she looked ready to take out Skull herself, Lux could sense something in his tone that was different from when they’d failed the maze, different from when they’d forced him to lose the prelims.  It was a lazy-sounding confidence, and it made Ware more uncertain than it did her. 

Whether it was intentional or not, Ware hesitated and pulled his arrow away from her neck.  It only took that instant of an opening for Lux to swing around low with the circular movements familiar to her and knock Ware off his feet with Mediadem.  As he rolled back, springing to his feet, Lux and Skull both turned their weapons back to melee form and charged at him.  Umbra would have joined them as well, if not for the need to dodge a sudden laser blast from the core of Torque’s shield.

As she looked over to the edge of the trees, Umbra saw Torque already switching Výthisi’s form.  Despite the situation and who she was working with, she couldn’t help but feel that old, familiar thrill building up inside her, and it showed in the grin on her face.  “Gauntlets, huh?” Umbra asked, as she drew her own morningstars.  “I thought you usually went for the hammer.”

“I do,” Torque shrugged.  “That’s why I need to practice with these more.”

“Well then,” Umbra said, “let’s do this!”  She leapt at Torque, bringing down a morningstar to smash into her face.  Torque easily smacked the attack aside, then swung her own back.  For a moment, Umbra was taken aback by how quickly she was able to punch.  Apparently, she’d been improving those rockets on her gauntlets.  That just let Umbra know to pick up the pace as well.

Umbra gradually increased the speed of her attacks to see how fast Torque could take it.  When she finally started slipping up, with the spikes of the morningstar clipping her shoulder, Torque was quick to activate her semblance.  Her skin hardened to a metallic state and her blows slowed considerably.  Umbra gave her one moment to think she’d gained the upper hand, allowing her to knock her morningstars away.  She snuck bareknuckled punches at Torque’s metallic face and let her think the punches hurt her hands more than they hurt her face.  Umbra had always enjoyed toying with her prey.

It took a few hits before Torque noticed something was wrong.  Umbra’s punches started to hurt more, and at first, she didn’t know if it was because her semblance was weakening or because Umbra was using more aura. 

In fact, it was both.

“It’s my semblance, Torque,” Umbra explained cockily, noticing the confusion on her opponent’s face.  “My weapons were always more for fighting Grimm.  Against humans, it’s much easier to do what I do without them, which is _stealing aura_.”

Upon this revelation, Torque instantly tried to play more defensively, leaping back from Umbra and punching her gauntlets together to let them retake shield form.  However, pumped up on her aura, Umbra was able to propel herself faster than before, land a dozen blows on Torque before the shield could finish transforming, stealing more aura each time, and then send her skidding off into the forest with one supercharged finishing punch.

“Ho yeah!” Umbra exclaimed, flexing her arms, impressed with herself.  “Who kicked your ass?  I kicked your ass!  Who’s the best?”

“Umbra.”

She spun and found Skull and Lux waiting behind her, the latter seeming slightly pleased with herself even if the former was annoyed.    “Lux!” Umbra exclaimed, running up to her partner.  “Did you see that?  I just knocked Torque out of the park in like, two seconds flat!”

“I caught the end of it,” Lux nodded, smiling up at her.  “Very impressive.  Skull and I were quick to overwhelm Ware as well.”

“Overwhelm, but not defeat,” Skull said sourly.  “He turned tail and ran as soon he realized he couldn’t beat us alone.  Probably off to regroup with his _friends_ right now.”

“Pfft,” Umbra scoffed, punching her own palm.  “We’ve already got their flag.  What’s the worst he could do?”

“Take our flag and move with it faster and more efficiently than Citrine or Royal?” Lux suggested helpfully, smirking as Umbra glared at her.

“Carmine’s still guarding ours,” Umbra pointed out stubbornly.  “She’d die before she let them take it.”

Just then, they heard a loud BOOM in the distance and felt a tremor beneath their feet.  Lux and Umbra exchanged a glance.  In their game, there could only be one source for such a powerful shockwave, and for them to feel it from so far away, they knew it must have come from a last ditch effort of an attack. 

“Well,” Lux said nervously, “let’s hope that last statement doesn’t actually hold any water.”

Growling in frustration, Skull quickly snatched Team RWCT’s flag and started running back in the direction of the goalposts.  As his teammates followed him, he said, “Umbra, head back to our base.”

“What?  But the fight’s going to be at the goal,” Umbra objected.  It had always been hard for her to slow down from fight mode once she got on a roll. 

“And if Citrine has the chance to regroup with her whole team, then we need all of ours to meet them and win this,” he snapped.  “Grab Carmine, make sure she’s okay, and get her to the fight.  Got it?” 

Umbra might have objected further, but then she realized this was the first time she’d heard Skull talk about any of his teammates in terms of needing them, or even shown them actual concern.  “Well,” she murmured, “fine.”  She gave Lux a nod and said, “Take care,” before splitting off and heading towards Team SCUL’s base. 

Lux was left alone, running through the forest with her leader, whom she still regarded with some caution.  This whole game was obviously set up as some sort of redemption for him, a chance for Skull to show that he could be the kind of leader they needed.  He seemed to be doing well at meeting their needs so far, but she was withholding judgment until she saw exactly what he would do again in order to win, or how he would treat them if they lost again.

There was a buzz from Skull’s scroll, and when he pulled it out to see what was there, a disgusted look crossed his face.  Lux had to check over his shoulder to see that he had been sent a selfie—Citrine and Royal posing with Team SCUL’s flag in hand. 

“That hick farmer flower girl and her overstuffed clown,” Skull growled, glaring at his scroll.  “They’ll get what’s coming to them soon enough.”

Despite his supposed menace, Lux noted with some interest that there was a hint good spirit and a competitive edge in his voice, and that seemed to be an earnest change in him.  She could still remember back to their Sanctum days, and to all the times when he had both started and ended every challenge to Pyrrha Nikos by looking at her with pure hatred.  He had never been good enough to be a real threat to her.  Of course, no one had been, but only Skull had taken it so personally because he felt that he should be.  He had such high standards that he himself had never been able to meet.

When Lux thought about it, she wondered if that was why he had such high expectations for his teammates as well.  Whatever the case, she felt certain it was for the best that he seemed to have found a truer rival in Citrine Vermoss.

There was a blast of green light ahead and Lux was barely able to dodge as a massive blast of energy came barreling towards her.  The semblance attack was followed by its owner as Citrine appeared on the scene to clash weapons with Skull.

“Hey there, Numbskull,” Citrine greeted him cheerfully, pressing her axe against his scythe.  “Having fun yet?”

Grinning broadly, Skull phased through to attack her from behind, only for Citrine to catch his swing.  “Now I am,” he said.  Lux barely had time to appreciate his genuine enjoyment of this moment before he called out, “Lux, the flag’s not on her!  Get to the goal and make sure the purple idiot doesn’t get it in!”

She paled at the order.  “M-me?” Lux stammered.  “Shouldn’t I just help you until—”

“You’re the only one _here, now!_ ” Skull shouted, activating his semblance again as Citrine attempted to blast him again with hers.  “You can do it.  So go do it!”

“I—”  Lux gulped and nodded.  “Yes, Skull.”  Drawing Mediadem, she dodged around the chaos of Skull and Citrine’s fight to make her way towards the goalposts.  However, she had barely taken covered a few yards before she found herself confronted with a different danger.  Arrows of all varieties rained down on her and Lux had to stay on her toes, unsure if the next attack was going to freeze or burn the ground beneath her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ware following her branch by branch, training his arrows on her once again.  “Think you can take me one-on-one, Lux?” he called down tauntingly.  “I’ve got the high ground.”

Lux was thrown backwards by the shockwave of a gravity arrow and stared up at him.  “You forget, Ware,” she said.  “You’re not the only one with projectiles.”  She ran forward, rolling to avoid another fire arrow, and then spat acid up at the branch where he stood.  It crumbled instantly, tumbling to the ground along with Ware.  He leapt up and righted himself quickly, aiming another arrow at Lux who was already trying to make a break for the goals.  Then a morningstar smacked into his head, breaking his concentration.

Pausing only for a moment, Lux watched as a streak of white blasted past her and Umbra engaged with Ware, punching his arrows out of the air.  “Go get ‘em, Lux!” she called out.  “I’ve got this covered.”

She ran ahead, scanning the skies for any sight of Royal.  In the dark of the night, those shiny, white pants of his were sure to stand out.  While she was distracted, a figure flew out at her from the left, and too late, Lux realized there was a bright orange hammer aimed at her head.  Thankfully, a second figure flew out from the right, matching the hammer with their own oversized sword.  Lux dove forward, just as Torque and Carmine landed, crossing weapons.

“Oooh, Torquey-Torque!” Carmine exclaimed, smiling excitedly.  “You’re really gonna get it now for lying about that fun new seismograph of yours!  I really wanted to try out my quakes!”

“I said,” Torque grunted, already trembling under the weight of Carmine’s sword, “that it wasn’t ready _yet_.  It’ll be done eventually.”

“Wait, really?  Eeheehee!”  Carmine spun around happily before swinging Big Buster down on her again.  “Torquey, you’re the best!”

Lux sped ahead while she could, certain that Torque would be less easily distracted by this fight than Carmine would have been.  She could hear other battles still raging on behind her as well—Skull vs. Citrine, Umbra vs. Ware.  That meant that the only thing standing between victory and defeat was her.  She had to get to the goals quickly, because if she lost this for her team because of Royal, the “purple idiot,” she was certain Skull would never even acknowledge her again.

Arriving in the torchlit clearing where they had all started, Lux stared around, nervous and out of breath.  Watching the skies, she began to edge toward the goalposts where the flag was meant to be stuck.  Her knives were drawn and she was ready to spit into the sky in any direction.

 “Really, Lux?  How blasé.”  Lux spun and saw Royal approaching on the ground from the forest, Team SCUL’s flag in hand.  “I hope you don’t think of me as that sort of person, who would try to win purely by sneaking,” he said.  “I’m really trying to be a more straightforward.  So, why don’t we settle this like hunters?”

Lux gulped, then tried to calm herself by rationalizing this.  Royal was the weakest and most inexperienced member of his team.  She had seen on his very first day at Haven that he used swagger and claims he couldn’t back up to try to make others think he was more powerful than he was.  Lux, on the other hand, was not that kind of person.  She was plain and simple and she had done the work to ensure she would not be a burden.  She would not be defeated by him.

She ran forward to meet Royal with her knives raised, intent to use her superior agility to dodge around him and take advantage of his slow movement with that sword of his.  However, as soon as she drew up within his striking range, Royal jumped up, up and away with his semblance.  Even though Lux scrambled to turn and spit at him, he was out of her range. 

Royal landed at the goalposts, pulling the flag out of his pocket.  “Apologies, Lux,” he said smugly.  “I’m trying to be more straightforward, but also less foolish.”

The moment as he reached to plant to flag and win the game for his team slowed down from Lux’s perspective.  She could hear her teammates fighting in the distance, but drawing closer still as they tried to bring the win to their side.  She could also hear a voice in the back of her mind, a cold voice accusing her, “You couldn’t even do this.”

Lux spat acid at Team SCUL’s flag.  Royal cried out in surprise and dropped it to the ground where it quickly melted away.  He stared at it and at her in disbelief.

“Come now, Lux,” he said, sounding more disappointed than anything.  “That’s hardly fair.” 

At that moment, Skull burst into the clearing, chased after by Citrine, who was tearing the life out of every plant in her wake.  They both seemed slightly beaten down and wild-eyed and ready to fight each other to the bitter end over whether Skull could plant her flag.  However, they both skidded to a stop when they saw the scene before them.

“What’s…what’s going on here?” Citrine puffed, staring between Royal and Lux.  “Did we win?”

“You see your flag up, Sunshine?” Skull demanded.  “Of course you didn’t win!”

“I almost did!” Royal protested indignantly.  “I was standing right here with it!  But then Lux went and destroyed it!”

Lux felt her face flushing as they all turned their gaze to her.  She could see the rest of their teammates approaching as well, equally perplexed by the situation.  “Well, I—I—” she stammered.  She cleared her throat, and attempted to make herself sound as certain as possible as she said, “Well, it prevented the enemy from winning, did it not?  And there was no rule stating that I was not allowed to.”

Skull let out a laugh, even as Citrine objected, “But you can’t just play like that!  How are we supposed to win if you can just destroy our only means to?”

“In all fairness,” Lux said, thinking quickly, “there’s no rule stating you can’t do the same either.”

Citrine took one second to consider her options before raising her palm to fire a blast at Skull.  That second, however, was more than enough time for Carmine to smash her fists into the ground, using her own semblance to rattle and shake the area and create a chasm in the earth for Citrine to fall into.  Skull ran forward in that second as Umbra blocked incoming projectiles and blasts from Ware and Torque.  He phased through Royal’s utterly ineffective attack and came out the back to plant Team RWCT’s stolen flag at the goal.

He gave Lux a grin and a nod of approval there.  She felt as if the sun had come up.

“We did it!” Carmine shrieked.  She ran over to her partner to clench him in what could have been a bone-crushing hug if not for the activation of his semblance. 

Umbra rushed over as well and was more successful at grabbing Lux, hoisting her over her shoulder, and spinning around, shouting, “We!  Kicked!  Their!  Asses!”

Lux practically felt delirious with happiness and could only bring herself to exclaim, “Umbra!  Umbra, please!”

And Skull was silent for the most part, first watching his team celebrate, then watching as Citrine’s team gave her a hand out of the chasm Carmine had created.  He waited a moment until she’d been able to brush the dust off, and then, when he’d caught her eye, simply asked, “Well?”

Her expression matching the sour looks on her teammates’ faces, Citrine folded her arms and grudgingly sighed, “Fine.  I guess the dirty, asshole cheater pantses are the winners.”

Skull smiled, then let out a laugh that was perhaps more genuine than any he’d had in a while.  “That’s what I like to hear,” he said.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m just giving this to you!” Citrine snapped, pointing Harbinger’s Almanac at him in a challenge.  “We’re doing this again sometime, with _real rules_.”

“Go ahead,” Skull said, meeting her eyes.  “Lay down all the rules you want.  Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got the better team.”  He turned back towards the campus and gestured his team onward, saying, “C’mon, this place is already beginning to stink with an aura of defeat.” 

All in high spirits, Carmine, Umbra, and Lux nodded and trailed along after their leader.

Team RWCT did as well.  “He _knows_ we literally live across the hall from him,” Ware pointed out.  “He’s just doing that to be a jerk.”

“Yeah,” Citrine sighed.  She was willing to let him have at least that, however.  She could remember all too well what it was like to almost lose your team and to just barely get them back, and it was something she wanted Skull to remember as well.

Predictably, Team RWCT and Team SCUL reached their rooms at about the same time, and when they did, Citrine and Skull let their teammates in ahead of them before leaning against opposite walls and facing off once again.  “So,” Citrine said, “looks like things turned out alright for your team.”

Skull snorted.  “If I’d known they just needed a pat on the back or whatever to light a fire under their asses, I would’ve done it sooner.”

Citrine pointed out, “You didn’t just give them a pat on the back, it looks like.  You gave them the individual support they needed to start feeling like a team, and not just a bunch of jerks moving in the same direction.”

“Eh, whatever,” he shrugged.  “I’ve still supported them into being a better set of weapons than I had before.  It’s like real weapon maintenance.  I’m just as strong whether I sharpen Charnel Yield or not, but it’s just that much easier to cut through my enemies if I do."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, certain that if she tried to lecture him again on how they were people, not tools, he would probably just start mocking her again.  He would figure it out eventually.  Probably.  “Your stubbornness knows no bounds, doesn’t it?” Citrine asked, shaking her head.

“Always been my policy,” he said.  “Usually found that just pushing my way through will eventually yield results.”

Citrine nodded for a moment, then asked, “So, is that what your whole hunter goal was about?  ‘To conquer everything, even death,’ or whatever it was?”

Skull glanced aside, as if he had been hoping she hadn’t remembered that.  “Yeah,” he sighed briefly.  “I…just decided a long time ago that I wanted to be the strongest force in my life.  Anyone or anything else was just something to be conquered.”

“That certainly sounds like a very you way of looking at things,” Citrine said, smiling at him.

Skull noticed her smile and quickly tried to change subjects.  “At least I have a way,” he said.  “I mean, what was _your_ hunter reason?  You wanted to protect people?  What kind of weakass reason was that?”

Blushing indignantly, Citrine demanded, “When did you see that?”

“As soon as you turned your back on me in Lautrec’s classroom,” Skull said.  “Like I’m gonna let you see mine without looking at yours.  Good thing I saw it too, so I could let you know what a garbage reason it is.”

“It’s a fine reason!” Citrine snapped.  “It’s what I’ve wanted to do my whole life!”

“Yeah, but it’s so _boring_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “And it’s what all hunters do anyway.  It’s not really a why.”

“It—I—”  Citrine found herself tongue-tied, unable to respond.  As much as she wanted to blame it on just Skull making her angry as always, she suddenly remembered she’d had trouble answering this on her date with Sage as well.  And when she thought about it…she suddenly realized she couldn’t think of more of an answer.  “It’s just…what I’ve always wanted to do,” she said at last.

Skull raised his eyebrows slightly, then said, “Well, as long as you know that.  I don’t really care as long as you stick around so we can have that rematch.”  He gave her a wave, then headed towards his room with a, “Night, Sunshine.”

Citrine was left out in the hallway, thinking of what he had asked her. 

She went back into her room, thinking of it still. 

She struggled to get to sleep that night, with the matter weighing heavily on her mind.

Then, when she woke up early in the morning, Citrine realized she still didn’t know why she had become a hunter.

She wondered if Team RNBW would know.  The last time they had called her, they were in the village of Ponente.  If they were still there, maybe she could have a face to face conversation with them and try to sort this matter out quickly.

Citrine texted Warbler, the earliest riser on the team, and told him that she needed to talk to them.  Then, she slipped out of her room and headed to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand now we are back where we started. And I'm just glad this nightmare of a chapter is over.
> 
> By the way, I just got a job that I'm starting next week! Not sure what that'll mean for an update schedule, but things'll still get done eventually. And, I'll have money!


	8. Miss Usi Lives For a Day

Torque first began to notice something was amiss with Citrine that Monday after class.  She had been spacey and distant all through that day, and Torque had been willing to accept that.  They were out late that night after all, and she felt that any amount of time spent with Skull Muinarc, let alone the amount Citrine had been forced to spend with him the day before, would leave anyone tired and distracted.  It was only when she continued to be distracted in their evening team practice session, forgetting to give her teammates orders on what to do, that Torque began to worry.

Tuesday was worse.  Citrine managed to slip away from her team after breakfast and didn’t regroup with them until she was five minutes late for their first class of the day with Professor Wine.  It didn’t cause much of a stir with him, since Professor Wine was one of the most student-friendly teachers on campus, but for Torque, who had never seen Citrine show up late to anything, it was a point of concern.  The fact that she let Royal attack her completely unprotected back in practice that night was not a good sign either.

Then came Wednesday, when they had only one class with Professor Lu and Citrine spent the whole time staring at the blackboard without taking any notes.

Then came Wednesday afternoon practice, and when Royal asked her what they were going to do that day, Citrine simply shrugged noncommittally and said, “Actually, I…was thinking about skipping practice today  Would you guys mind?”

That was when Torque knew something was _wrong_.

“You’ve never skipped practice,” Torque said instantly, squaring up against her.  “You are obsessed with practice.  I once made a chart of the words you used most commonly in our text conversations and ‘practice’ was right there at the top, along with ‘Harbinger’ and ‘tree.’”

Ware gave Torque an inquisitive look.  “Torque, why do you have a chart like that?” he asked.

“And do you have one for me?” Royal asked.  “And is abominable on there?  Because I’ve really been trying to phase that out of my casual use.  It just doesn’t sit well on my tongue anymore.”

Torque ignored both of them, still focusing on Citrine who, even in this confrontation, seemed not entirely present.  “Citrine, what’s wrong?” she asked.  “You haven’t been yourself the last few days.  Was it the date?  Was it capture the flag?  You have to tell me so I can help you.”

Citrine frowned at her and sighed.  “Thanks Torque, but it’s not either of those,” she said.  “And it’s not really something you can help me with either.”

Torque bit her lip nervously.  She didn’t like the sound of that.  She didn’t like not being able to fix things. 

“Look, it’s really not that big a deal,” Citrine insisted, seeing the disappointment on Torque face.  “It’s just something Skull told me that—”

“So it _was_ Skull?” Torque snapped quickly, turning Výthisi to its hammer form.  “I will break his legs if he’s harassing you again.  I’ve been learning from your fights with him.  I know I can do it.”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” she said.  “He was actually…kind of helpful.” 

Which made this conversation even more confusing to Torque.

“He gave me something to think about,” Citrine told them.  “And now I need a little time on my own to figure out why I’m here.”  She looked around at Ware and Royal as well and said, “Is that okay with you guys if I just take today?”

“Oh, of course, Citrine, of course,” Royal said much too eagerly.  He had enjoyed getting stronger alongside his teammates, but he also enjoyed not ending up drenched in sweat and covered in bruises from their practice sessions every single day.  “Take as much time as you need.”

“We all need space and time to sort things out sometimes,” Ware said.  With him, for example, the space had been Haven and that time was, hopefully, forever.  “You’re as free as anyone to take it.”

Citrine smiled at them weakly.  “Thanks, guys,” she said.  “And don’t worry, we can make it up with a double practice tomorrow.”

Royal laughed nervously, patting her on the back and saying, “No need to get too far ahead of yourself now.”

She gave both the boys a nod before turning to Torque.  “I’ll see you later,” Citrine said, then walked away from her teammates.

Torque was left watching her leave, feeling distinctly as though she had failed.  “What’s she even doing?” she asked.  “Why’s she gotta do it alone?  I don’t get it.”

“Well, Torque,” Ware said, “Citrine is simply a person who feels things very broadly and very deeply.  For people like that, a chip on their shoulder can feel as heavy as a mountain, and Citrine isn’t the type to ask others to bear that weight with her.”

“She doesn’t have to ask,” Torque murmured.  “I would do it anyway.”

Ware glanced at her uneasily, unsure of how to handle this emotionally.  To him, that had always been one of the benefits of having Torque as a partner.  You didn’t really have to be there for her.  She was hardly there for herself.  For once, he was actually grateful when Royal interceded.

“See now, Torque, you’re looking at this all wrong,” Royal said, sweeping in front of her.  “Citrine also isn’t the type to stay down.  She’ll be back at it breathing down our necks in no time, but until then, we have perhaps the rarest commodity available to us under her tyranny—free time.”

Torque flatlined her expression, apparently unimpressed by this idea.  “So?”

“So,” Royal said leadingly, “why don’t _you_ suggest something for us to do today?  Something that _you_ like to do.”

“Like work in the workshop?” Torque asked.

“Something you like to do that we can do together.”

“…Like show you what I’m working on in the workshop?”

“I don’t think you’re quite understanding this, Torque.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged.  “I don’t really like doing that anyway.”

“No, no, no, I’m simply asking you to think a little bigger.”  Royal slid up beside her, leaning down to throw his arm around her shoulders and gesture across the horizon, saying, “Just think of all we could do without Citrine around.  I love the girl as much as you do, Torque—”

“Not true.”

“—but she is a person with an utter lack of understanding and appreciation for, essentially, human culture.  Her idea of a fancy meal is a sandwich with extra meat.  Her idea of entertainment is a new copy of a book she's already read.  Surely there must be something you can think of that you’ve wanted to do that you felt Citrine wouldn’t be interested in?  Honestly, any self-indulgent little thing?”

Ware snorted at him.  “You’re quite the tempter,” he commented.  “Not a very hunter-ly attitude to have.”

“Well,” Royal said, raising his eyebrows at Ware, “even hunters have to take care of themselves every now and again.”

“Actually,” Torque said, a thoughtful look on her face, “there is somewhere in Mistral I wanna go to today.”

“Why, excellent, Torque!” Royal exclaimed, leading them on down the hall.  “We’ll be off at once.  Tell me, what is it, Torque?  Your favorite restaurant?  A theatrical production?  Or perhaps even that new spa I hear they’ve opened on East Boulevard?”

To Ware’s utter lack of surprise, it was not one of those. 

To his utter lack of surprise, they instead ended up in the Mistral Museum of Aeronautic History.

The museum was a spacious building that featured displays varying from entire antique air ships suspended by wires to collections of nuts and bolts accompanied by plaques explaining their different uses.  With Torque leading Royal and Ware on a tour through it, however, the plaques were quickly rendered useless.  She was able to rattle off information about every single exhibit there, often going into more detail than was available already. 

Royal seemed disinterested in the experience, as well as the loss of spa-portunities, but Ware found himself feeling rather charmed.  Despite the lies present in his own relationship with his teammates and his need to hide his appearance in oversized sunglasses, hats, and sweaters every time he went out in public, there was little he appreciated more in other people than honesty, and he could not think of anything more honest than dragging your friends through a shrine to a special interest of yours.

Plus, the air ships were hardly something to sniff at.

Standing by the second floor balcony overlooking the main floor, Torque pointed to the ship nearest to the door, a ship in the traditional style with the angled sails and the long, pointed bow.  “That’s Akaseoh, one of the first ships to make the flight from here to Vacuo,” she said.  Then, she pointed to a heavy metal ship painted with blue camo.  “And that’s Shearhorn,” she said.  “That was used in the Great War in one of Mistral’s major victories against Vale.”

“Mmhmmm,” Royal hummed in a tone indicating his skepticism of the wonders of these ships.  Ware swiftly and sharply elbowed him in the side, causing him to change his tune to, “Oh, mmhm, yes.  Quite interesting.”

Torque, as usual, took no notice of him whatsoever.  Her own interests took precedence over what anyone else had to say.

 _Perhaps that isn’t quite so fair,_ Ware said.  He looked around the second floor for something a little more shiny and glamorous that Royal might enjoy.  Finally, he caught sight of a holographic display and pointed it out, saying, “Torque, what’s that one over there?”

They walked over to examine the exhibit.  It was a hologram of an airship, though unlike any Ware had seen before.  It seemed to have a wooden hull, for one thing, and instead of a series of upright sails, there only one that hung over the deck like an inflated sheet.  Even in the projected image, Ware could make out the intricate details patterned into both parts—swooping, abstract stars on the hull and overlaying feathers over the canopy.  On the deck as well were a series of delicate instruments for charting the skies and tables laden with parchment.  It was a creation of whimsy, and perhaps one of the most exquisite creations Ware had ever seen.

Torque took one look at it, sniffed, and said, “That one’s nothing.  Just a piece of trash,” before bustling on to the next exhibit.

Ware and Royal easily caught up on either side of her with Ware curiously asking, “What’s wrong with that one?”

“It’s just a picture from a fairytale book from ages ago,” Torque grumbled.  “An old idea of what a ship that could fly would look like.  Garbage.”

“It’s a rather charming idea,” Royal commented.  “What people dreamed of before they had the technology available to achieve it.  And I think it’s rather pretty.”

“It’s a ship.  It doesn’t have to be pretty,” she snapped.  “It has to have heavy metal plating and cannons to ward off Grimm attacks and enough engines and levitation technology to keep it off the ground.  You can’t do that with wood and cotton sails.  You need science, not magic, to fly.”

Ware raised his eyebrows in surprise.  Although Torque had said this with her usual monotone, she had undoubtedly been defensive about it.  That was a new development.  “Well then,” he said lightly.

“This one is actually impressive,” Torque said, directing them to another glass case exhibit.  Ware and Royal looked over it and found it to be full mostly of non-descript nuts and bolts, as well as a large chunk of metal heavily singed around the edges. 

“Uh, yes.  Of course,” Royal said, glancing at Ware uncertainly.  “But, what exactly is it?”

“It’s some of the remains of Expansion,” Torque said.  “That’s the ship with the highest recorded flight in the history of Remnant.”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that one,” Ware commented.  “It managed to escape the atmosphere briefly, didn’t it?  And then it exploded.”

“Only because its makers were still trying to make dust technology work in it,” Torque snapped, again leaving Ware taken aback.  “If they had just developed new engines without dust, it would have worked, but they didn’t, and Expansion did blow up, and then nobody wanted to put the time or the money into spaceflight.  It’s stupid.” 

As she continued to stare intently at the display, Ware couldn’t help but think that this was a side of Torque he had never seen before.  She had always seemed more interested in machines than in people, but that interest had always seemed more focused towards weapons.  This apparently keen interest in flying had been well hidden, although for what reason, Ware couldn’t tell.  There wasn’t a whole lot Torque could be counted on to be shy about.

“Hey!” someone called out to their group.  “Hey, you!”

Ware braced himself, tucking his hat lower to strengthen his disguise as someone approached them.  However, his worry that he was being called out by a fan was diminished when he realized the person approaching them was a portly member of the museum’s security team.  He appeared to be in quite a huff and, more importantly, seemed to be aiming his anger at Torque.

“Whoops,” Torque said.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” the security guard demanded, stomping up to her.  “You were banned from here months ago.”

“Yeah, but the newer members of your ticket selling staff didn’t know that,” Torque informed him.  “If you want a better banning system, you should really install a facial recognition scanner.  I can do that for you if—”

“Enough with your modifications and installations, young lady!” he snapped.  “You’re not talking your way out of this.”

“Excuse me,” Royal said, cutting as politely as he could between Torque and the security guard.  He towered over the short man, and Ware was reminded that someone as tall and as broad as Royal might actually seem intimidating to those who didn’t know him personally.  “Now, I don’t mean to disrespect the sanctity of this institution, but I must question what exactly my friend here has done for you to deem it necessary to have banned her.”

“What she’s done?” the guard scoffed.  “More like what hasn’t she done!  Every time she’s come in, it’s been something different.  She broke into one of the exhibit cases—”

“To rearrange the subjects,” Torque explained.  “There was no order to their arrangement.”

“She tried to hack into our system to rewrite the informational plaques—”

“Hacked, not tried to,” she corrected him.  “And only because most of them were vague and low on details.”

“She climbed on top of one of the ships!” he spluttered.  “The one suspended 20 feet in the air from the ceiling!”

“Because whoever set up your suspension did a shit job on that one and I wanted to fix it,” Torque said.  “Never got around to it, just so you know.”

Ware laughed at how unconcerned she seemed by these charges.  “Torque, I think I can see now why everyone says you were the worst student back at Sanctum,” he said.

“Really Ware, you don’t have to encourage her,” Royal scolded him.  “Disrupting private property is never acceptable.”

“I wasn’t disrupting it, I was fixing all of it,” Torque insisted.  She shoved her hands in her pockets, saying, “And I’d do it all again too.”

“And that’s why you’re leaving right now, missy,” the guard said.  “No more of this funny business.”  He moved forward, attempting to grab her arm and drag her away.  However, the guard had chosen an unfortunate time to take his supervisor’s advice on being more assertive with disorderly visitors.  None of Torque, Ware, or Royal particularly liked being handled or pushed around, and they all liked it just as little when people tried to handle their friends.

Unintentionally, the three of them shoved the guard away at once.  While a shove from one of them would have been enough to send him skidding across the floor, their combined effort sent him sailing through the air.  To their relief, he landed on one of the suspended ships instead of immediately crashing to the floor.  To Torque’s horror, she quickly realized he had landed on the ship with the poorly installed suspension.

As soon as the guard thudded onto the top of the ship, one of the cords holding it up, already pushed near its limit, snapped out of the ceiling.  The ship dropped downward, leaving it hanging precariously by an already stressed cord and the guard hanging precariously by the loose cord.

“Oh, shit,” Ware swore over the already panicking crowds of people.  He hesitated a second, waiting for Citrine to confirm the order to move.  In that second, a thread of the cord snapped and the guard let out a cry of panic as he inched further to his death.  It took that for Ware to realize that Citrine wasn’t there and that his teammates were instead looking to him for guidance.  It was a very new experience.  “Right, I’ll—no, Royal.  Grab the security guard,” he said.  “I’ll, hold on one second.  Torque.”  He tried to think of which of Torque’s weapons would be best suited for this situation, grateful that unlike most students, Torque carried Výthisi with her at all times.  “Get downstairs with your shield and get people out of the way.  I’ll—”  He sighed in frustration and pulled out his scroll.  “I’ll be down in a second.”

As Royal leapt into action, attempting to wrestle a panicking man off a wire while he himself danced in place in order to stay afloat, Torque leapt from the second floor balcony.  Activating her semblance on the way down, she landed with a crash on the floor besides some civilian visitors looking up at the dangling ship in terror.  She turned Výthisi into its shield form and used it to push them on forward, like a snow plow clearing the streets, deciding that would be more painless than her trying to ask them to move.

“All clear,” she called out once they were out of the way.

“All—all clear,” Royal huffed as the guard scrambled out of his grasp and onto the safety of the floor.

In the next moment, there were two crashes—one as the final cord snapped loose and one as a weapons locker crashed through the ceiling onto the second floor.  The ship plummeted to the floor and Torque only had a moment to mourn its loss before debris flew out from the wreckage and careened towards the crowd.  She used Výthisi to block and blast it away from the people who had the good sense to hide behind her, but before she could worry about the parts flying over her head, she found them either blown off course by wind arrows or slowed by gravity arrows. 

After the debris had finished spraying, Ware leapt down from the second floor, flipping over the ship and landing before Torque with his bow, Cryptelum, in hand.  “All clear,” he nodded to her with a sigh of relief. 

Royal landed beside him, puffing his chest out importantly.  “I think we handled that quite well,” he said, the wreckage of an antique warship framed behind him.  “Even without dear Citrine around.  Particular kudos to you for taking charge, Ware.”

Ware nodded and reached up to smooth his hair and ears.  Only then did he realize his hat had flown off in the leap down.  He had abandoned his sunglasses on the second floor as well in order to help his aim.  He also realized that the crowds were no longer looking at him simply because he and his friends had saved their lives.

People were already pulling out their scrolls.

“That’s Ware Sterling!” shrieked a girl, pointing at him.  “ _Ware Sterling saved our lives!_ ”

Others began to shriek and jump as well, then swarmed up to meet him.  Ware raised his eyebrows and said, “Whoops.”  He looked around at Torque and Royal, laughing, “Looks like we have to get going.”

“No worries,” Torque said, her shield already in crowd control mode.  “I know a way out.  This place’s security is lousy.”

Pushing through or leaping over the crowds of people desperate to secure a selfie with or an autograph from Ware, they made their way up through the levels of the museum with Torque managing to break them through a door marked “Maintenance Staff Only” in two seconds flat.  They emerged onto the roof and made their way across a number of others until they were out of sight of the museum. 

“Well,” Royal huffed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.  “That was certainly something.”

“Kind of more than a thing,” Torque said, folding up Výthisi.  “We just destroyed half of my favorite museum.”

As soon as he’d caught his breath, Ware burst out laughing.  It was a full, carrying laugh, causing him to double over and clutch his stomach.  He actually began to tear up.  Royal and Torque both stared at him as he tried to right himself, wheezing, “Oh, ohhhh, that was—that was—”  The smile on his face was so utterly genuine and pure that Royal’s heart fluttered and his ego swelled when he remembered what an exclusive experience this was.  Finally managing to stifle his laughter, Ware sat back on the roof and said, “That was lovely.  That was…”  He sighed contentedly.  “That was why I became a hunter.”

Royal perked up instantly, again keen for a Ware-exclusive experience, meaning, Ware sharing anything personal.  “What do you mean by that?” he asked, cautiously optimistic to, for once, receive a straight answer from him.

“Freedom,” Ware said.  “There is…”  He hesitated, his ears twitching slightly, then pushed himself on.  “There is a lot that is constricting about being a faunus,” he admitted at last.  “There are so many humans who think they can tell you what you can do, where you can go, what you can be, who you can be with.  It’s sickening to have to live like that.  I was already training to become a hunter before I was picked up by Star Shot, just so that I would have the strength to fight those who tried to control me.”

“Why did you leave Star Shot then?” Royal asked.  “It seems to me that would be a very easy path to freedom.”

“That’s what I thought too.  That’s what it seemed like the first few months I was with them,” Ware said.  “I had more money than I’d ever imagined I would.  I could travel anywhere around the world.  Everywhere I looked, there was someone who would do anything for me, and all I thought had to do was smile and put on a show for them.  But then I realized there were certain concessions I had to make in order to keep all of that.  Nothing really they were forcing me to do, but…”  He tipped his head up, thinking carefully for a moment.  “More of something they said I could not,” Ware said at last.  “That, plus what I realized was the extremely conditional love of my fans, made me realize it was hardly any different from the life I’d been living as a faunus street rat.”

“Street _fox_ ,” corrected Torque, who had apparently been listening despite having thumbed through her scroll for the entirety of his speech.

“Right, street fox,” Ware agreed, running a hand over his ears.  “Either way, it made me return to my original plan to come to Haven and seek my freedom in the life of a hunter.”  He glanced back and forth between Royal and Torque and smiled again in a way that made Royal feel as though he’d been blessed by the gentle light of the full moon.  “I think I made the right decision.”

“I…”  For once, Royal almost felt himself at a loss for words, but he found them quickly enough.  “I think you did as well.”

“What about you two, then?” Ware asked.  “Citrine seems to be having a bit of trouble with it, but why did you two decide to become hunters?  There must have been a lot more options for you as an heir and an heiress.”

“As the sole heir, there’s actually not as many as you’d think,” Royal said.  “My mother has always been very protective of my safety.  My father thought it wouldn’t do any harm to entertain my dream of becoming a hunter, but my mother likely would have objected strongly if she didn’t know how desperately I wished for this.”

It was Ware’s turn to look surprised.  “I didn’t know you did feel that strongly before coming here,” he said.  “I always assumed being a hunter was some rich boy flight of fancy for you.”

“Now Ware, you don’t give me nearly enough credit,” Royal chuckled, although that was something that in fact made him rather blue.  “I have long dreamed of becoming a hunter.  As far back as I can remember, my favorite stories have always been those of the brave hunters who fight back against the impossible odds the forces of darkness present to them, of those noble warriors who put their lives on the line to ensure that others would be safe.  Paragons of their people, heroes of their time. 

“I was raised with the idea that I was destined to be the best of everything, and I thought there would be no better way to do that than by becoming one of those great hunters.”  He noticed the slightly skeptical look on Ware’s face and amended, “Now, I know I am not _the_ best.  I know hunters are often flawed, sometimes becoming our enemies themselves.  But I still think it’s a worthy pursuit, and I admit, it does feel good to be immersed in something so…so _real_.”

Ware nodded slowly.  “I suppose I can appreciate that,” he said.  “Wanting something real.”

“I wanna go to space.”

They both turned to look at Torque, who was staring up into the sky.  Both her expression and her tone, as usual, betrayed nothing.

“What?” Royal asked.  “Space?”

Torque sniffed.  “Yeah.  Space,” she said.  “I wanna build the first non-dust-reliant ship capable of flight outside of Remnant’s atmosphere and then go up in it.”

Royal hesitated a moment, and when she didn’t explain, tried to ask in as non-judgmental a tone as he could manage, “But…why?”

Torque let out a heavy sigh and shoved her hands into her pockets.  “I get too many thoughts in my head,” she said.  “I see a lot of things and get a lot of questions about things, and it bugs me until I find answers about them, and then I just have a lot of ideas cluttering my head.  And I don’t always do well processing them.  It kind of overloads me.  It helps when I have something to do with my hands.  It kind of sucks when I have to try to express them.  I think I just end up annoying people most of the time.”

Royal suddenly flushed guiltily, remembering his reaction to the museum Torque had tried to share with him.

“The big thing I’ve always had questions about is space.  We can see things like stars and planets and comets from Remnant, but we don’t know anything about them because no one’s gone to them,” she said.  “I think that if I could get out there and see them for myself, it’d be a load off my mind.”  Torque shrugged.  “Apparently it’s pretty quiet in space too,” she said.  “I wouldn’t mind some quiet.”

“That is certainly an admirable goal, Torque,” Royal said.

“And it explains the aeronautic museum,” Ware added.

“But why did you become a hunter in pursuit of it?” he asked.  “Surely it would have been easier for you to develop the technology from home.”

“I can develop it from anywhere, really,” Torque said.  “Though, the workshops here are actually quieter than the ones back home.  It’s just that there have been countless failures to successfully break through the atmosphere, all of which resulted in crew casualties.  It’s gotten to the point where no major institution is even trying anymore.  To be able to trust my own design to take me safely into space, to do what no one else has done before, I have to be really brave.”  She looked over the boys, cocked one eyebrow up, and said, “What better way to do that than by becoming a hunter?”

On the street again, Torque waved good-bye to Ware and Royal, saying she was going back to the museum.  She wanted to help reassemble the broken warship if she could, and even if she was to be punished for its fall, she reasoned that with her connections and money, the worst punishment she could receive was that she’d end up in detention with Citrine for the rest of the month.  The boys were left on their own to make their way back to the docks.

“Well, it seems that once again, one of Team RWCT’s field trips has turned into a learning experience for us all,” Royal said, hoping to keep conversation open between himself and Ware.

Ware nodded.  “I never would have guessed about Torque and the spaceship thing,” he said.  “I always thought she was more grounded than that.”

“Yes, and you yourself…you…you…”  Royal’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of someone up ahead in the crowd.  “My Atlas,” he gasped.

Ware followed his gaze to a boy their age examining the front display window of a small dust shop.  He had a gray bowl cut and wore a blue sweater with a grey stripe down the center, along with a stern expression on his face.  “Who’s that?” Ware asked.  “He’s not from Haven, is he?”

Eyes wide in surprise, Royal said, “No, that’s—I hardly believe it.”  In a very un-Royal like manner, he suddenly rushed up to the boy.  Ware followed him, curious to see what would come of this.  “Spelt!” Royal called out.  “Spelt, is that you?”

The boy—Spelt—looked away from the window and, seeing Royal approaching him, reacted with a twinge of distaste.  To Ware, that was a sign that Spelt was very familiar with Royal already.  Spelt was quickly able to compose himself however, folding his hands behind his back professionally and greeting him with a simple, “Royal.”

“Spelt, I absolutely did not expect to see you here!” Royal exclaimed almost gleefully.  “I thought you had moved to Vacuo!  I thought you said you would be engaged there for the next decade!  Was your mission cut short?”

“My—oh.”  Spelt coughed into his closed fist.  “Yes, my mission,” he echoed in a way that didn’t convince Ware for a second but seemed to appease Royal just fine.  “Yes, plans changed.  I returned to Atlas and was then deployed here.  Briefly.”

“Royal,” Ware said, eyeing him suspiciously, “who is this?”

“Oh, of course, of course!  I must make introductions,” Royal said excitedly.  “Spelt, you may be able to recognize him already, but this is Ware Sterling.  Believe it or not, he and I are teammates at Haven Academy.”

Spelt looked him over, apparently unimpressed.  “I see,” he said.

“And Ware, this is Spelt Grayson,” Royal said, gesturing to the other boy broadly.  “Spelt is…well, he is my former boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Royal: I think we did an excellent job saving the museum today.  
> Torque: *replies with that gif of Iron Man with the city burning behind him*
> 
> (Ooohoohoooo, an ex enters the scene!)


	9. A Royal Affair

“Former boyfriend is a stronger term than I would use,” said Spelt Grayson, Royal’s ex-boyfriend.  “We went on one date when we were 13.  That was it.  Our relationship progressed no further.”

“Oh come now, you’re not giving us enough credit,” Royal said.  “We danced around each other for months beforehand, and then, when we finally danced, it was brief, but magnificent all the same.  I would say we did more than simply go on one date.”

Ware watched this interaction dumbstruck.  He prided himself on his ability to quickly prepare a witty retort or snarky comment in almost any situation, but this was…this was beyond even his scope to react.  Regardless of what he wanted to call himself, standing before him was someone who had not only agreed to date Royal—who Ware was certain must have been even more of an atrocious little tyrant at 13—but had thought their date went so badly, he found it necessary to lie about fleeing the continent in order to escape.

Or perhaps Spelt really had fled the continent, but simply lied about the reason.  Either way, Ware wouldn’t blame him.

“Regardless,” Spelt said, pointedly coughing again.  He looked Royal up and down, his cold, analytical stare taking in all six and a half feet of the well-pressed white-and-lavender show.  “You’ve gotten taller,” he commented, his words the only possible hint he might be impressed by this.

“Taller, naturally,” Royal boasted, “but stronger, sharper, and lovelier too.  The years have been kind to me, if I may say.  And you, sir, seem quite shapely as well.”

“Yes, I’m sure I do,” Spelt nodded.  He was silent for a moment, then began to turn, saying, “It has been an experience meeting with you again, but I must be going now.”

“Wait, wait, wait!  Surely there’s no need to rush,” Royal called out, grabbing his shoulder.  Spelt stared at him blankly as he carried on, “We’ve only just found each other again.  After four years, there must be so much to catch up on.  Perhaps you’d like to sit down for coffee or a light lunch nearby and discuss—”

“I have a boyfriend,” Spelt said, cutting off Royal full-stop.  “Just so you are aware, I have a boyfriend.”

At that moment, Ware wished more than anything he had a scroll out to capture photographic evidence of this moment and of the intense shade of red Royal’s face turned when confronted with this information.  Ware hadn’t even known that Royal could feel shame and embarrassment, let alone to this degree. 

“I, I-I, I-I-I-I—”  Royal stammered heavily as his hands flapped around aimlessly.  He snorted in an absolutely false manner of incredulity and said, “I was not—I did not mean to imply—pfft, of course I knew that—”

“His name is Baker Yi,” Spelt stated.  “We met in our second year at Atlas Primary Academy, began our relationship five months later, and have been exclusively involved with each other since then.”

Ware could hardly contain the grin splitting his face as he watched Royal attempt to process this.  Royal was so egotistical, Ware had no doubt he had spent the past four years imagining this Spelt character pining away for him, desperate for their long-awaited reunion, while in reality, the boy had dumped him at the first chance and been happily engaged with someone else the whole time.  It was a better drama than he had ever seen, and that was coming from someone who had spent years seeing himself and his bandmates on the covers of tabloid magazines around the world.

“That—that is simply, simply marvelous, Spelt,” Royal managed to spit out at last.  “I’m just absolutely thrilled that you’ve found happiness.  And just so _you_ know, I was definitely not seeking to rekindle any romantic relationship of ours.”

Spelt raised an eyebrow while the rest of his expression remained unchanged.  “Really,” he said in much more a statement of disbelief than a question.

“Yes, of course, I could never even consider it, given my _own_ romantic situation,” Royal said, seeming to fall back into his own patter.  “That would be tremendously dishonest, after all, to both you and to my own partner.”

“Your… _partner_ ,” Spelt again stated, just as Ware thought the same as a question.  They both watched Royal intently, Ware extremely curious as to how Royal would talk his way out of this one.  What lies would he come up with?  Obviously, there was no _real_ partner.  With Citrine as their taskmaster, there was simply no time for one—not unless Royal was willing to give up the precious time he managed to steal for his hair, skin, and nail regimen, and for him, that was simply unthinkable. 

“Yes, my partner,” Royal said, puffing his chest out.  “I was hesitant to tell you earlier, both because I wanted to be sensitive to any residual feelings you may have been harboring for me and for the sake of privacy, but since we all seem to be on the same page, I decided I might as well let you know.”  And in the unexpected move of the century, Royal abruptly slung his arm around Ware’s shoulders and confidently proclaimed, “Ware here is not only my teammate at Haven, but my boyfriend as well.”

For a moment, all Ware could do was stare ahead blankly.  He didn’t even feel anything at first.  After all, how should you react when you are claimed as Royal Mauvello’s significant other as he holds you in his sweaty grip?

Ware quickly decided on anger and disgust with a hint of unadulterated rage, although he only allowed that to express itself in changing the tone of his aura.  The rest of it was filtered through a smile up at Royal so wide and saccharine sweet that it was impossible for it to be confused as one of actual joy.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I heard that right,” Ware said softly.  “What was that you just told this nice gentleman?”

Pressed against him, Ware could feel Royal’s heartbeat jump.  His palms became even sweatier.

“N-n-now Ware, I…know you’re not fond of sharing our relationship status,” Royal said.  He quickly looked back to Spelt who seemed just as unconvinced as ever and added, “High-profile celebrity, after all.  Publicity contracts, paparazzi, media radar, all that.”  Then to Ware again, “However, I was hoping that perhaps, just this once, you might be willing to let it slip, just so I could assure Spelt that I have no further romantic intentions towards him and that we are both perfectly happy and beyond our previous relationship.”  He grew more nervous the longer Ware’s violet gaze drilled into him, finally proclaiming, “I would be _oh_ _so_ indebted to you if you could be so understanding as to forgive my big mouth.”

In a moment, Ware considered his options.  He could deny all of this, call Royal a fool and a liar, and walk away, but that would still leave Royal in a position to claim that Ware was just trying to protect his public image and give him nothing out of this.  On the other hand, he could play along, and play this game the way he saw fit.

And Ware _did_ like to play.

He relaxed against his side and into Royal’s grip.  He softened his smile and his eyes.  Just as he had so many times before in his years of performing on and off-stage, he fell into a character.

“Well, I am familiar with that big mouth of yours,” Ware said silkily.  “I suppose I might be willing to forgive it just this once.”

Royal appeared stunned, just as taken aback that Ware had decided to play along as Ware had been that he had asked him to play.

Ware gave him some light pats on the chest for good measure, then turned his smug gaze on Spelt, whose narrowed eyes showed he at last had some doubts about the reality of their relationship.  “I assure you, my _Oily-Royally_ is not a threat to you,” he said.  “We are deeply entrenched in our own romance.  Honestly, even if he was still interested in you, I couldn’t imagine letting him go for anything in the world!”  Ware wrapped his arm around Royal’s waist, making sure to dig his fingernails in.  Royal’s heartbeat only continued to speed up.

“Hm.  Pardon me then, for my snap judgment,” Spelt said.  “I had not heard anything of a relationship concerning either of you, and I am usually very well informed.”

“Ahaha, well, we can’t all know everything,” Royal laughed nervously.  “Just as my, um, dear Ware here said, even I can make mistakes on occasion.  Well, it’s been lovely catching up, but I’m sure you must be on your—”

“Now, there’s no need to have us all rush off,” Ware cut him off in a warm tone.  “You two have just reconnected.  There must be so much you want to talk about.  How about it, _sweetie-poo?_   Can’t we stay for just a little longer?”

Royal’s face was a shade of red normally only seen on strawberry-flavored candies.  His jaw trembled with indecision as he attempted maintain a smile.  “Well,” he said.  “Well, I suppose a…a little conversation couldn’t hurt.”

 _That’s your second mistake,_ Ware thought triumphantly.

Spelt seemed to approve as well, nodding thoughtfully as he said, “I’m glad to hear that, since I have a number of questions concerning this new relationship of yours, Royal.  I hope you wouldn’t consider it too invasive for me to ask how you first met.”

 _So that’s his game,_ Ware thought, staring into those cold, black eyes of his.  He still hadn’t bought this, and he wanted to be proven right about his hypothesis that their relationship was a sham.  Ware felt certain that if he answered all his questions with enough detail, Spelt wouldn’t be able to come out feeling smug about having witnessed two fools pretending to be in love.

And if he could do it all while getting some jabs in at Royal…

“You know, it’s kind of a funny story,” Ware began.  “We were actually just talking about it the other day, weren’t we, Marshmello?”

“Um, yes,” Royal nodded nervously, clearly fearing being called upon to explain it himself.

“It was, of course, during the first exam when we first met,” Ware began.  “I’m not sure what the exam is at Atlas, but we at Haven were buried underground and expected to escape.  I had already made my way to the surface and was headed towards the next goal point when I was simply struck by the strangest sensation.  It was as if my aura had connected with something else in the area and was urging me to find it.  When I stopped, I realized I could hear something underground as well and immediately, I dropped everything to dig up another pod buried there.  And I suppose you can guess who it was inside.”

“Aha, yes, it was I!” Royal jumped in, trying to remain involved.  “Ware’s aura knew we were meant to be together before he did, and it was love at first sight.”

Ware laughed musically and told Spelt, “That’s just how he likes to imagine it.  In reality, it was hard to even see him at first through all the muck he was covered in.  He was buried beneath a disgusting bog, after all.  Not to mention, he’d been crying so hard in his panic to escape that he could hardly see me.  But of course, I wasn’t going to leave such a wretched, pathetic man to such a fate after our auras tied us together, so I picked him up, carried him to the surface, and saw to it that the Grimm in the exam didn’t harm a single hair on his precious head.”

“Oh…right…”  Royal cast an embarrassed look at Spelt as he said, “My…my dear Ware is certainly very protective of me.  Aren’t I just…the luckiest?”

“Indeed,” Spelt nodded.  “That’s quite intriguing.  And tell me, what led to you becoming romantically involved afterwards?"

“Well, that is _another_ great story, and Royal actually took the initiative in this one!” Ware began excitedly, with Royal tensing up further beside him.  “So, of course we made it through our first exam, and then we were assigned to the same team.  We had a lot of time to spend together after that, and a lot of time to get to know each other.  It was only another week before he tried to ask me out— _tried_ being the key word here. 

“See, he was walking towards me from across the cafeteria, all full of that Royal flash and charm I’m sure you’re familiar with, when he slipped on a banana peel left out by one of our classmates.  He face-planted into my chocolate pudding and bit halfway through his tongue, but he was so determined to ask me out, he still tried to mumble it out as blood was spilling onto his shirt.” 

Ware was practically bubbling with laughter as he concluded, “But when he asked ‘Will you please date me,’ it sounded like ‘Why do you always hate me’ instead!”  He reached up and pinched Royal’s cheeks harshly, saying in his sweetest, most honey-laden voice, “Honestly, if I wasn’t so utterly smitten with him already, I’m not sure how I would have fallen for someone who managed to fail so spectacularly at something so simple!”

Royal seemed to have lost the ability to make eye contact with either his ex-boyfriend or his pretend one as he murmured, “That’s quite true.  I really don’t deserve someone as… _accepting_ as my dear Ware.”

Ware caught a glimpse of skepticism still on Spelt’s face, and decided that since he was already so entrenched in this, he might as well push it further.  “Do you need to see the scar for proof?” Ware asked, leaning his head against Royal’s chest as he stared down Spelt.  “I know I’ve felt it enough to vouch for its existence.”

Shameless, he winked.

Royal’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird.

Spelt blushed slightly and glanced aside.  “No, that will not be necessary,” he said quickly.  “I find your relationship to be sufficiently credible.”

“Oh, goody!” Ware exclaimed, beaming victoriously.  “Just what I’ve always wanted.”

“S-so!  Spelt!” Royal practically shouted, eager to get as far away from this conversation as possible.  “What brings you here?  Why are you in Mistral?”

Equally eager, Spelt tried to regain his composure, saying, “I am here with my team from Atlas—Team Albatross—to attend the opening ceremonies of Kaijumura.  We have been hired as ceremonial junior bodyguards and will act as representatives of our kingdom.”

Royal’s eyes lit up in legitimate surprise.  “Really?” he asked.  “That’s what my team—no, _our_ team—”  He cast a nervous glance over at Ware as if he was a wild animal poised on the edge of being tamed or biting his hand off.  “—Team RWCT is doing.  We were hired as ceremonial junior bodyguards as well.”

This information seemed to cause Spelt no small amount of discomfort.  “Well,” he hissed uneasily.  “I suppose then that we…will see each other again…at the opening ceremonies.”

“Yes,” Royal nodded slowly.  “We will have to see each other again.”

“Royally-doily, why don’t you sound more excited about that?” Ware teased him again.  “You can introduce me to your ex-boyfriend’s new boyfriend too!  And I’m sure by then, I’ll have even more hilarious stories to share with them.”

Royal seemed ready to wilt on the spot but still forced himself to smile.  Through gritted teeth, he said, “You’re right, dear.  That sounds soooo exciting.”

“Speaking of my team,” Spelt said, abruptly taking out a scroll that had clearly neither rung nor vibrated with a notification, “it looks like they require my presence back at the hotel.  It has been an experience catching up with you, Royal.”  He nodded to him.  “And Ware, it has been…”  He stared at Ware for a moment, but the proper words seemed to elude him.  “I’ll see you and your team again at the ceremonies.”  Then he took off at a pace that seemed far too brisk than a “required presence” should call for.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ware dropped the smile, shoved Royal out of his grip, and headed for the docks back to Haven.  Royal sighed, half in relief, half in apprehension, and followed him onward. 

The walk back to the docks was more than awkward.  It was painful.  Ware refused to so much as acknowledge Royal’s presence, and Royal was so worried about what would happen when he finally did that he couldn’t even bring himself to catch up with him.  Even as they waited for the next shuttle back to Haven, he felt it necessary to wait a few steps behind Ware.

It was only when they were both trapped aboard the air bus on their way home that Royal felt courageous enough to approach him, and that was only because it would be difficult for Ware to either run away or attack him without harming someone else.

Knowing this didn’t stop Royal from being nervous.  As he approached his teammate where he was leaning on the guard rail beside the windows, watching the sea as it passed, he could feel his aura coming off him in tremendous, cold waves.  Even his fans aboard the ship, who would normally attempt to approach him without Citrine around, seemed wary of him.

Royal stepped up beside Ware and grabbed the guard rail to brace himself.  He puffed out his chest, tipped up his chin, and said, “Ware, I—”

“I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that I don’t appreciate being used and manipulated,” Ware cut him off in a voice that was both soft and quiet _and_ edged with ice.  He continued to pointedly not look at Royal as he said, “I had four years of that when I was in Star Shot.  I had a lifetime before it when I was just another faunus urchin on the street.  People telling me what I was in their terms.  Labeling and limiting me.  Treating me like either trash or a trophy.  Sometimes both.  I didn’t appreciate it then.  I won’t tolerate it now.”

“Ware, I—”

“I thought I had to tolerate it then too,” Ware went on.  “And given the position I was in, maybe I did.  But I am certain I have my freedom now.  I can choose who to be, and I can choose who to be with.  I thought Team RWCT was where I could do both, but don’t try to convince yourself for one second that I wouldn’t cut the latter if they threatened the former.”

“ _Ware_ , I—”

“I would choose my next words very carefully if I were you, Royal,” Ware said, practically through gritted teeth as his ears slid back.  “Although it’s fortunate I’m not, or else I too would be a selfish, inconsiderate, overgrown—”

“Ware, I’m sorry!” Royal exclaimed.  “I know I acted selfishly and inconsiderately.  I can try to justify it by saying it was on an impulse and I didn’t mean anything by it, but that does nothing to remedy how I actually hurt you.  And I know I must have hurt you deeply.  You wouldn’t have lashed out so… _effectively_ otherwise.”

Ware considered this a moment, then deigned to cast his gaze in Royal’s direction.  His teammate was looking at him imploringly, those blue-grey eyes of his dripping with authentic concern.  “Go on,” Ware told him.

“I was trying to impress Spelt,” Royal told him.  “Desperately.  And I chose you because you were the one beside me, and because you are always so quick-witted with your taunts and jabs, I knew you would be able to play along at the drop of a hat.  Spelt was known as a genius logician amongst our circles in Atlas, and I needed someone like you in my corner if I was going to make this convincing.”

“You could have told him it was anyone in the world you were dating,” Ware said.  “I still would have backed you up.  You know full-well why you chose me.”

At that, Royal blushed slightly and took his turn to avoid his teammate’s gaze.  “I admit, part of the reason I thought you would impress him was because of your celebrity status,” he said.  “It was a poor decision on my part and not fair to you, but honestly, all I could think in the moment was…was how much I didn’t want Spelt to think I was alone.  He was the first boy I thought I might love.  The first of many, admittedly, but he was still the first, and that meant something to me.  I didn’t want him to think I’d fallen behind, still standing alone and unwanted, while he was blissfully in love with this Butcher fellow.”

“Baker,” Ware corrected him.  Then he corrected his own behavior.  “That still doesn’t excuse it,” he insisted.  “You broke my trust, Royal.”

“I know, and for something hardly even worth it,” Royal sighed.  “But can you at least understand a bit of why I would do something so foolish?”

Ware looked out to the passing sea, already feeling his old foolishness as he admitted, “I suppose I can, actually.”  He let out a heavy sigh.  “Love sucks.”

With tentative optimism in his eyes, Royal looked at him and asked, “Does that mean you’ll forgive me?”

Ware rolled his whole head dramatically before concluding, “I suppose, just this one time.  But after we see Team LBRS at the opening ceremony, we never speak of this again.  Understood?”

“Well, we could certainly never speak of it again before then,” Royal suggested.  “You know, you really don’t have to act like my boyfriend in front of Spelt and his if you don’t—”

“Oh no, a promise is a promise, Royal,” Ware teased him, his eyes lighting up.  “I said I would make a showing for them, and make a showing I will.”

Although the thought of what else Ware might be able to concoct in a few days to embarrass him further turned Royal’s stomach to stone with dread, his chest felt light and expansive at the return of that mischievous smile he was so fond of seeing.  On an impulse, he grabbed Ware’s hand and, holding it up gently in his own, leaned down and kissed it.  When he came back up, he found Ware giving him the most genuinely puzzled look he had ever seen.

“What…was that?” Ware demanded, pulling his hand back.

Royal smiled at him and shrugged, “I felt I still owed you something.”

Ware snorted.  “And you felt your kiss was something valuable to give?  You’re even more conceited than I gave you credit for.”

“It was nothing like that,” Royal insisted.  “It’s just that now, you can give Spelt an honest story about our first kiss.  I thought one less lie to tell might be a relief for you.”

Ware’s gaze softened a fraction and he smirked.  “A moment of thoughtfulness at last,” he said.  “Perhaps you won’t make such a terrible boyfriend after all.  When you finally find someone suited to your particular disposition, that is.”

And though outside, Royal could only bring himself to boast that he would make a magnificent boyfriend, inside, he could only listen to the message his heart had been broadcasting on repeat for weeks now—that he already had found someone, and that someone, from his silver hair to his mischievous smile, was the most beautiful person he had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple o' things.  
> 1\. Yes. Royal has the feelings. Hard. A boy like that does not fall moderately in love.  
> 2\. I swear to Zig, Ware always ends up 10x meaner than I envision him when I actually write him. He and Citrine are both characters that kind of get away from me.  
> 3\. It's back to Citrine next week, and I'm excited. We've been missing her for two fairly long chapters, which is the longest we've been away from her.  
> Although, you could say that that's just a bit of prep for the next fic...


	10. Do You Ever Wonder...

If someone had told Citrine a year ago that she would end up not only attending Haven Academy, but leading a team there, she would have thought they were crazy, because she had a plan to avoid just such a situation. 

If someone had told her a month ago that she would be successful in her leadership and manage to unite Team RWCT in both friendship and camaraderie, she would have snapped at them for cheapening the actual work she was putting into that seemingly impossible task.

And if someone had told her a week ago that after uniting her team under such trying circumstances, the thing that would not only leave her feeling defeated, but lead her to get into a verbal fight with her parents, was a simple question from Skull Muinarc, Citrine would have laughed in their face for the sheer ridiculousness of it.

But of course, all of those things had now come to pass and Citrine was dealing with two hard facts—that achieving what seemed impossible to her wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded, and that she had no idea why she wanted the thing she’d been working towards all her life.

As she left her teammates behind that morning, unable to accept the help they felt they could offer her, all she wanted to do was blame this on Skull.  She wanted to say that without him butting into her business, she would have gone on completely fine.  In reality, she knew it was her own fault for going 17 years without once stopping to consider why she was doing anything.  After all, that had always been her problem, hadn’t it?  Her tendency to simply barrel on without looking ahead.

“Oof!”

Citrine, who had been walking with her head down across campus, bumped into someone and recoiled in surprise.  “Sorry!” she apologized to them, embarrassed for having been so inattentive.  “I was just—”

“Hey,” the someone said, “I think I recognize you.”

She blinked up at the someone and realized she recognized him too—Lazulus Bethane, the second-year quarterstaff fighter from Team MPVL.  He looked down at her with a perfectly pleasant, uncontentious expression, one that seemed similar to, but less guarded than the one Ware usually wore. 

“Um, hey,” Citrine greeted him uncertainly.

“You’re Citrine, right?” he asked.  “We fought in that training exam a few days ago.”

Had it really only been a few days ago?  Time at Haven seemed to move weirdly to Citrine.  There were weeks that slipped by like moments and there were days that felt like they dragged on for an age. 

“You were fairly impressive, even without your regular teammates,” Lazulus commented.  “You seem a little distracted today though.  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Citrine insisted quickly.  “I just have a few things on my mind.”  If she wasn’t willing to talk to her own teammates about this, then she certainly didn’t want to unload on a near total stranger.

“You walked straight into me in the middle of ten-lane courtyard,” he pointed out, gesturing around to the mass of open campus space around them.  “I’d say that’s more than a few things.”

“Thanks for the concern, but seriously, it’s fine,” she said.  “I can take care of this on my own.”  She attempted to duck around him, but Lazulus effortlessly matched her step for step, still smiling down charmingly.

“Perhaps you can,” Lazulus said, “but I feel that, as your upperclassman, I should still offer you some guidance.  After all, haven’t you learned that the key to success at Haven is knowing when to rely on others?”  When she showed hesitation again, he added, “And if it’s any help, allowing me to help you will only help your teammates in the long run.  The strength of one is the strength of all.”

Citrine sighed at the soundness of his logic and reminded herself that he was doing no less than what she had tried to do for Skull in helping him reconcile with his team.  There was an innate sense of duty to help other teams, as well as her own, and it seemed that Lazulus shared that sense.  “Alright,” she conceded, “but can we talk somewhere private?” 

Lazulus nodded.  “I know just the place.” 

The second-year led Citrine across campus to the forest and walked some way in until they came across a particularly large and ancient-looking tree with leaves that had turned a deep shade of violet with the season.  There was a nook that rose up through the base of the trunk as well, creating a space large enough to stand in.  It was a quiet and beautiful space and Citrine felt it was a sign of how domesticated she’d become living indoors that she hadn’t struck out enough to find it on her own yet.

“Nice, right?” Lazulus said as she looked around.  “One of the upperclassmen showed me this place my first year too.  I like to come here when I need to get away from my teammates.”

Citrine wondered how often that was.  Even the freshly fallen leaves in the area seemed well tramped down by foot traffic.

“So, feel free to unload, my little underclassman,” Lazulus said, leaning against the tree in a relaxed fashion.  “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Citrine sighed, “I’m not even sure if this should be an issue.  I’ve been doing pretty good at Haven lately.  I’m getting to be a better hunter, my team’s working together, and I think I’m finally starting to get along with this guy who's been antagonizing me.  The only problem now is I’ve been having a hard time figuring out why I’m here.”

“Well,” Lazulus said, tilting his head thoughtfully, “that’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?  Why _are_ we here?  It’s a question many hunter-philosophers have pondered over the years.  They suppose that because of the inexplicable existence of Grimm, there must be a higher power at work—one which has created a challenge very specifically aimed at mankind, possibly as some type of test of our strength and faith.”

She frowned at this analysis.  “Okay…?”

“Of course, there are also those—usually those more cynical—who believe this higher power instead uses the conflict of man vs. Grimm as a form of personal entertainment and that we are nothing more than the rotating cast of characters in their favorite drama.  Such people also tend to be divided on whether this higher being is actually divine, or merely an extremely long-lived prick.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And of course, there are also those who think that the Grimm are, in fact, a natural development of the world and are not inexplicable, but simply, at this point, inexplicted.  That belief as well comes with its own can of worms concerning what purpose accompanies an existence in which everything can be considered both rational and random.  But,” he paused and looked down at her just as she again attempted to cut him off, “I’m guessing that’s not what you’re asking about.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly.  “I’m kind of wondering more about why I—specifically—am at Haven right now.”

“Are you having a crisis of conviction?” Lazulus asked.  “That happens a lot to first-years, this time of year.  The training and the pressures and the expectations get to them, and they start to wonder if they’re cut out to be a hunter.”

“It’s not even that,” Citrine said.  “I can handle the pressure.”  Even if it did get to her sometimes.  “I know I’m supposed to be here.”  Even if she did once conspire to not come to Haven.  “And I want to be a hunter more than anything,” she said.  “More than anything else in the world.  I just realized that I don’t know why anymore.”

“And that’s an issue for you?”

“Well, yeah!” she exclaimed.  “I even yelled at my parents because of it.  They’ve been training me since I was a little girl to be a hunter, but they never made me stop and think about why I was doing it.  I shouldn’t have a job like this if I don’t even know why I’m doing it.”

“There must have been some reason you started training originally,” Lazulus pointed out.  “Something simple, if you started so young.”

“I mean…”  Citrine shrugged, thinking far back into the past.  Although she had been surrounded and raised by people of many different occupations, it was only the hunters she had wanted to emulate.  To her, they seemed more colorful than everyone else.  They had bigger personalities.  They had so much more to say and to do.  Everyone respected and depended on them.  They were Citrine’s favorites.  “I did it because I wanted to be like my parents,” she said.  “They’re hunters too.  But I don’t think that’s enough anymore.  I still respect them, but I don’t wanna be just like them like I used to.”

Lazulus nodded, considering this, and as he did, he appeared to look beyond Citrine, seeing something far, far away.  “So, you had a purpose as a hunter once, but now you’ve lost it, and you’re wondering how to carry on,” he murmured.  He raised his eyebrows curiously and said, “You know, it’s funny that of all people, you would run into me while dealing with this quandary, Citrine.  Lovely addition to the question of fate versus random chance as well.  Either way, you should know that I once faced a similar issue in my first year as well, although under different circumstances.  Tell me, Citrine,” he said, looking at her once again, “have you heard any of the stories about Team MPVL?”

“Just that you guys used to be on different teams,” she said.  It was one of those things that was just talked about at school, the best piece of trivia to share—which teams had been remade over the years.

“That’s right,” he nodded.  “Once upon a time, Marie, Pongo, and Viridia were members of Team PVMA along with Anise Stella, and I was a member of Team WLLW along with…”  He trailed off as something flashed through his eyes.  “Well, all the names aren’t that important,” he amended.  “Just—just the one.  Willow, she was our team leader, and my partner, and my best friend since I was a little boy, and just like you Citrine and your parents, she was my reason for becoming a hunter.  She just seemed to shine and inspire in everything she did, so of course, when she said she wanted to be a hunter, she inspired me follow in her footsteps.”

“What happened to her then?” Citrine asked when he hesitated to continue.  “How’d you end up on Team MPVL?”

“Well,” Lazulus sighed, “last winter, my team, as well as another first-year team—Team POLR—were assigned to our first unsupervised mission together.  There were reports from the village of Ostro of strange figures attempting capture Grimm in the area.  Professor Wyltt said he thought it was some ill-informed trophy hunters, and he believed we would be able to break it up on our own.  Willow thought we could too, and she was…”  He sighed wistfully.  “She was so excited to lead us.

“Whatever it was those villagers saw, I’m not sure if we ever found it.  Instead, when we came close to the site, we were ambushed in the night by a horde of Grimm.  Maybe hundreds of them of different species, more than I’d ever seen at once.  Our teams tried to fight them as well as we could, but we were overwhelmed almost instantly.  I was injured and knocked out part way through the fight.  I awoke next in the infirmary back at Haven.  Apparently, the school came looking for us when we didn’t check in with them.”  He gulped slightly and said, “And apparently, I was the only one they found alive.”

Citrine’s mouth fell open with shock.  “Nearly two whole teams?  In one mission?” she asked.  Lazulus nodded wordlessly, leaving her full of horror at the thought of what must have happened to bring about such a tragedy.  Even amongst student teams, it was rare to lose even two to death on a single mission.  Seven was unheard of except in the most dire of situations.  “I’m…sorry, Lazulus,” Citrine said.  “That must have been horrible.”

“Oh, it certainly was,” Lazulus said lightly.  “Best friend dead, loaded with survivor’s guilty, and basically as soon as I was physically healed, the school wanted to go ahead and reassign me to a new team, to try to make Team MPVL work.”

“What happened to Anise?” she asked.  “Was she killed too?” 

“No, she just dropped out to pursue a career in cooking,” he said.  “It still meant they were down by one member and I was down to one member.  It seemed like it should have made sense.  Only problem was I wasn’t sure why I was still at Haven at that point.  I had built my entire dream for becoming a hunter around the idea that I would do it in support of Willow, after all, and without her around, I was left without a proper motivation.”  Lazulus nodded to her and asked, “Sound familiar?”

At first, she didn’t think it did, since she had never been in a situation of such great loss, except perhaps in whatever situation had caused her to lose her biological family.  However, she realized that she had as well built her identity as a hunter around her ability to support the commune, and while she hadn’t lost them to death, she had moved and grown in a way that made solely supporting them feel impossible to her.  Now, she was in at least a similar position as Lazulus had been last year, questioning where to go without her old dream to fall back on.

“What did you do then?” Citrine asked.  “You must have found some other reason to want to be a hunter.”

He laughed.  “Well, yes, but it was less of a ‘found,’ and more of a ‘gradually came to realize it,’” Lazulus said.  “At first, I decided to give Team MPVL a month.  I would stick around for that long to see if they were so completely insufferable that I felt the need to leave them to reassemble their team again.  And I admit, we had a bit of a rocky start.  Marie and Pongo were a lot more high-strung and high energy than I was used to dealing with, and Viridia can be quite morbid at times.  I think they may have also expected something else from me—to fill whatever position Anise held on their team.

“If there was anything that kept me going with them, it was that they were all hunters, through and through.  They’re all very much dedicated to this job, and I ended up respecting them all too much to just leave out of the blue.  I pushed back one month to two months, two months till the end of the semester, the end of the semester to giving myself the summer to mull it over, and then…”  He shrugged.  “Then there we were, being such helpful upperclassmen, volunteering to help out with the first-year seminars and everything!  And perhaps it was never my own greatest desire to do such things, or even to be a hunter who risked his life for the masses, but I know I would do it all for the sake of my teammates with more noble goals.”

Citrine frowned in confusion.  “Wait, am I not getting something here?” she asked.  “Are you saying you basically just went from wanting to be a hunter for Willow’s sake to wanting to be a hunter for your new team’s sake?”

“That about sums it up!” Lazulus nodded.

“But if that’s the case, then you still haven’t figured anything out!” she protested.  “You’re still just doing it for specific people.  It’s not about what you want.”

“But it is.  It’s because I want to support my dear friends Marie, Pongo, and Viridia,” he pointed out.

“That’s not reliable at all though!  What if your team breaks up again?  What if they drop out or what if you get different jobs after graduation?  You’ll just have to find a different reason again!”

“Then I’ll find another reason!” Lazulus laughed.  He smiled down at her frustrated expression and said, “Look Citrine, it’s very likely that you did go too long without stopping to think about why you wanted to be a hunter, or even _if_ you wanted to be a hunter.  It’s been your goal for so long, it’s started to seem like something great and all-consuming.  It’s as if it’s your one and only purpose, and if you can’t put your whole heart and soul into it, then what’s even the point.  Sorry, too close to home?” he asked, noticing Citrine’s unsettled expression.

“No, no, go on,” she insisted, although she did wonder how he kept pegging her like that.

“The point is that you missed what most of the other kids went through, which was choosing to go through school, choosing at every point to not drop out for a safer, easier profession, and in general, having the ability to build up a life outside of hunting,” Lazulus said.  “You missed all the chances up to this point to realize that, while hunting is an extremely important job and you should be willing to give it your all if you’re going to do this, it is also in many ways just that—a job.  It is in no way the only thing to define you.  It is you who defines what hunting means to you, and as you grow and change, that should change as well.  And that can change as often as from day to day if it needs to. 

“One day, your purpose as a hunter may be to save the kingdom of Mistral from a migrating flock of nevermores, and the next, it may simply be making sure your friends have enough food in their packs to make it to the next village over.  As long as you keep putting your best foot forward as a hunter, I don’t see why you have to have any greater purpose than accomplishing what’s before you.”

“And you think that’s okay?” Citrine asked.  “To just live day by day like that?  Jumping from purpose to purpose?”

“Well,” Lazulus said, cocking his head to the side, “it’s what everyone else does.  I don’t see why it can’t be the same for hunters.”  Noting the still confused look on her face, he reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder saying, “If you don’t quite get it yet, just take it slow.  Start small.  Think about what you want most right now.  Work towards that.  Keep finding other things.  Work towards them.  And eventually, you’ll probably find something a little grander.”

Citrine ran a hand over her hair nervously.  “I…I guess I can give that a shot,” she murmured.  “What am I supposed to do though if it doesn’t feel like enough?”

“If that’s the case, then you might need some anti-depressants,” Lazulus told her.  He beamed and said, “I know they worked wonders for me!”

Lazulus saw her off with a pat on the back, a wish for her to do well, and the emergency call number for Team MPVL.  Citrine spent the rest of the afternoon attempting catch up on homework—which she still had yet to get the hang of doing—and mulling over what he’d said.  In theory, a lot of it made sense.  It had always been her own policy to have a back-up plan and so it seemed sensible to have back-up motivations as well.

The only problem was it had always been her policy to take on challenges in leaps and bounds instead of baby steps.  She didn’t know if she could take on being a hunter one day at a time as he’d suggested, without any greater plan or sense of certainty in her purpose.

At dinner that night, it seemed as though Citrine was not the only one with things on her mind.  As she ate together with her teammates, she noticed that they there was something off about the dynamic.  All they would say about their afternoon without her was that they’d gone to a museum in town.  Beyond that, Torque was so engrossed sketching something in her sketchbook that she could barely even be bothered to touch her food, let alone acknowledge any of her teammates.  Ware and Royal were both quieter than usual as well, and though the two had never been particularly close, there seemed to be some extra space between them in the way they kept avoiding eye contact, never mentioning each other specifically in their conversations.

Sitting in the awkward silence of their meal, Citrine thought back to what Lazulus had told her. 

_Start small.  Think about what you want most right now._

What was it she wanted right now?  Looking around at Torque, Royal, and Ware, only one thing came to mind.  She wanted her team to not drift apart again.

_Work towards that._

Citrine was just beginning to wonder how when she heard a loud snort behind her.  Turning, she saw Team SCUL having dinner together as well.  However, instead of eating, Skull was leaning back in his chair, feet up on the table, snoring loudly as he slept through the meal.  Immediately, she felt a stab of annoyance at him for getting to have such a peaceful evening after she had spent the day turmoil.  After all, if she had never tried to help him with his team stuff, he would be the one in the doghouse and she would be as happy as ever.

Considering this, it was easy for her to think of something else she wanted right now.

“Torque,” Citrine said, abruptly standing up, “sketchbook away.  And Royal and Ware, I’m gonna need a little more life out of you two.”

The three of them looked at her in confusion.  It was only when she flashed them a big, toothy grin that they perked up.  “Well,” Ware said, sounding pleasantly surprised, “it looks like someone’s feeling like herself again.”

“Sure as hell am,” Citrine nodded.  “Enough of this moping around.  We’ve still got some catching up on our training to do if we’re going to be fighting fit for the opening ceremonies.”

“Right, of course.  We certainly wouldn’t want to make fools of ourselves at that,” Royal said, glancing for a second at Ware who, to Citrine’s confusion, winked back.

Torque stowed her sketchbook beneath the table immediately and simply smiled up at her friend.  “What were you thinking?” she asked.

 _What a question_ , Citrine laughed internally, before opting to give the short answer.  “I was thinking it was time for our rematch with Team SCUL,” she said.  “Not capture the flag, though.  I was thinking a game of tag this time.  And I was thinking—”  She couldn’t help but grin maliciously, even as she grabbed the miniature lemon meringue pie from Royal’s tray.  “I was thinking it would be fun to start with Skull being ‘it.’”

With Torque, Royal, and Ware watching in a mixture of glee and horror, Citrine spun and flung the pie away, aiming it directly at the sleeping face of Skull Muinarc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up being another kind of wordy chapter, but honestly, kind of a message I wanted to put out into the universe - that it's okay to let the little things carry you through life for a while. And anyway, we'll finally be going to Kaijumura next chapter, so I figure that's okay.
> 
> Plus, Lazulus and Team MPVL will be involved in certain...things later on, so I figured it would be a good idea to get him out there again.
> 
> Plus plus, get rekt Skull.
> 
> Team MPVL: Team Maple  
> Team WLLW: Team Willow  
> Team POLR: Team Polar  
> Team PVMA: Team Puma


	11. Walk, Walk

October 31st arrived in a flurry of golden-red leaves, a chill in the air, and a tingle of excitement amongst the population of Mistral.  The opening of Kaijumura had been a long time coming, both in the sense that it had been in construction for more than a decade and the sense that the kingdom was still healing from the failure of Oniyuri.  The fact that Mistral would now be home to another major city, supposedly larger and more secure than any before it, was a sign of hope to all.

For Citrine, it was a day of pride.  At least, at the beginning it was.  She and her teammates got themselves ready in a flurry that morning, chattering about what was to come.  They also dressed in more formal tones than usual, as per the instructions that had been included with the job offer. 

“Remember, we’re not just junior bodyguards,” Royal had chided them days earlier when Citrine and Torque grumbled about having to dress up.  “We’re _ceremonial_ junior bodyguards.  This is a _ceremony_ , girls.  It is a celebration for which many people are vastly excited and in which a lot of time and money is invested, and we are expected to look the part.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Citrine had grumbled at him.  “As long as I don’t have to pay for it.”  Her family hadn’t been able to send her much money as of late, and particularly after chewing out Team RNBW earlier in the week, Citrine hadn’t felt comfortable asking for more for something so frivolous as a formal dress.

“I’m only going to buy you this dress if you don’t rip it off or ruin it at the first opportunity this time,” Royal had said, teasing her with his periwinkle-colored credit card.

“You can use my allowance to buy one,” Torque had volunteered with an edge of competitiveness.  “I know I’m not buying anything.”

Despite the dress code, Citrine felt her mood could not be dampened the morning of the opening ceremonies.  She was so excited for her first real job as a hunter and filled with such pride for everything she and her team had achieved to get there that she skipped breakfast just to get to the train station early.  Citrine waited there as the station filled up with others eager to travel to Kaijumura, feeling only slightly self-conscious about the new dress she was wearing.

With Royal allowing her to call her own fashion shots, Citrine had gone ahead and picked out something similar to the yellow-and-white checkered dress she had first attempted to select for her date with Sage.  This one featured a richer shade of gold, larger patches, and a short ruff that divided the chest.  She also wore a short, tan jacket and matching boots and felt much more comfortable in it than the outfit Royal had picked for her.  It also helped that she was carrying Harbinger’s Almanac this time.

Citrine rocked back and forth as she waited by the railroad tracks.  There were many others around her shuffling around similarly, but their actions were out of a need to keep themselves warm.  With her aura active and protecting her from the chill, Citrine only did so to help manage her nervous energy.  The instructions in the job offer had been minimal, so she was still uncertain of what to expect at the ceremony and it was one of the only things off-setting her good mood.  She tried to key in to some of the conversations around her to drown out her nerves as well.

Standing in front of her, there were two faunus in their mid-30s discussing opportunities available in the city.

“I hear tell there’s going to be thousands of new jobs there,” the dog faunus told his friend, his bushy tail wagging excitedly.  “Good jobs, office jobs.  Not just manual labor anymore.”

“With all those new skyscrapers, there’s gotta be,” his friend, a deer-antlered faunus, replied with hope gleaming in his eyes.  “If I can get in on one of those, I might be able to finally convince the rest of my family to move here from Menagerie.”

To her right, there was a group of middle-aged women talking about how they were going to spend their first day there.

“My cousin is part of the construction crew in the arts district,” the one with curly brown hair was saying, “and he said there are dozens of specialty restaurants there with cuisine from the other kingdoms.”

“We should find one with Vacuan food then,” one with a pink pixie cut suggested.  “I do love Mistral’s restaurants, but they’re all so mainstream.  No places with really authentic foreign cuisine, you know?”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” said the third member of their group.  “I am desperately hoping for some more variety in Kaijumura.”

And to her left, there was a young woman with straight brown hair standing alone.  She had no one to speak to, but she was clutching in her hand a pamphlet advertising affordable apartments in downtown Kaijumura.

Citrine smiled to herself as she took all this in.  Kaijumura was more than just a new city.  From new jobs to new cultures to new starts at life, it meant so many different things to so many different people in Mistral.  Not to mention that should it survive, it would be the first major city to do so since the founding of Atlas.  That would signal to the other kingdoms that they should be able to strike out on such ventures as well.  So much was riding on its success. 

Remembering what Lazulus had told her about taking her goals as a hunter one day at a time, Citrine thought confidently, _Today, I want to be a hunter so I can protect all these people’s dreams._

“Citrine!  Hey!” 

She spun, smiling at the approach of Torque and Ware across the station.  “Hey guys!” she exclaimed, rushing to meet them.  “What took you so long?”

Ware’s ears twitched in amusement and he smirked, saying, “We’re still here 15 minutes before the train.  You’ve just been here too long.”

Without greeting her, Torque pressed a Snacks™ brand protein bar into Citrine’s hand and said, “Eat this.  Your aura’s gonna crack by the end of the day if you don’t have anything to eat.”

“Huh.  Aren’t I usually the one reminding you to eat?” Citrine laughed.  When she got deep into working on a new function for Výthisi or perfecting a new move, basic functions like eating, sleeping, and bathing tended to go out the window of Torque’s mind.  It was usually several times a week that Citrine had to drag her into the shower or shove a plate of food in front of her.

Today, however, Torque seemed considerably more in control of herself than usual.  Her hair, face, and even normally oil-ridden fingernails looked freshly scrubbed, and instead of her usual coveralls or layered shirts and capris, she was dressed in a pale turquoise dress shirt, steel gray slacks, and golden suspenders.

Ware’s outfit seemed a little more true to form.  He had on washed-out blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt, over which he had a silver vest jacket with a fur-lined hood.  He also wore a black beanie with holes for his fox ears to stick through on top.

“What, so I have to dress up all fancy and fashionable, but you get to wear whatever?” Citrine asked, giving Ware a playful shove. 

Ware laughed and gestured down his body, saying in a voice dripping with scorn and sarcasm, “Citrine, I’m a _celebrity_.  Whatever I wear is fashionable.”  Then he shook his own head at the concept.  “Honestly, I’m just hoping there’s enough focus on the city that no one wants to make a fuss over me.  If we work together after graduation, I reserve the right to veto taking any high-profile cases.”

“Deal,” Citrine said.

“I reserve the right to call for a majority vote in order to approve your vetoes,” Torque said.  “And to more precisely define ‘high-profile.’”

“Hey, speaking of high-profile,” Citrine said, looking around, “where’s Royal?  I can’t stop this train to wait up for him.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll get here on time.  He would never miss a chance to show off,” Ware commented.  “And believe me, he looked like he was gearing up to show off.”

Citrine rolled her eyes.  “He already wears a suit every day.  How’s he going to step that up?  Wear a suit made out of gold?”

“A suit made of gold, don’t be ridiculous,” Ware scoffed.  “Royal’s _much_ more of a silver kind of guy.  Suits the Atlesian aesthetic better.”   Citrine laughed and he added on, pointing over her shoulder and saying, “See for yourself.”

Curiously, she turned and saw a new group of four young hunters approaching the train tracks.  They stood straight-backed in a straight line, clearly used to a disciplined approach.  At the front of the line was a tall, hard faced girl with short, curly auburn hair.  Beside her was a girl with her chin tipped up in a dignified manner and her green hair piled on top of her head in an intricate bun.  Next was a short, plump boy with a crown of ginger hair, and he was talking to their last member, another boy with smooth black hair who held himself even more stiffly than the others.

Not recognizing them as Haven students, she raised her eyebrows at them curiously, particularly the first girl, who practically radiated toughness in a way Citrine had always aspired to but never achieved, largely due to her attachment to her very non-threatening braid and skirts.  “Who are they?” she asked.

“That’s Team LBRS,” Ware explained.  “They’re the Atlesian ceremonial junior bodyguards.  Ripple Helena,” he pointed to the first girl, “that’s their leader.  Letitia Naturana,” he pointed to the next girl, “her father’s a major politician in Atlas.  Baker Yi,” he pointed to the ginger, “comes from a prestigious family of surgeons.  And Spelt Grayson, he’s the heir to an iron mining company.  Also,” Ware smiled mischievously, “Royal’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh, that’s—wait, what?” Citrine spluttered, looking up at Ware with shock and confusion.  She stared at the straight-laced, black haired boy waiting unmoving by the train track, then back to Ware.  “Him?”

Ware cracked a broad grin and nodded, “Believe it or not!  They went on about 90% of a date once.  And apparently, the ginger on his team is his _new_ boyfriend.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.  Oh, and if anyone from their team asks,” he added innocuously, “Royal and I are also dating.  He’s trying to impress his ex, and he decided international pop super star Ware Sterling was impressive enough for his purposes.”

“Good dust,” Citrine said, shaking her head in disbelief.  “When did all of this _happen?_ ”

“That day you decided to go off and find yourself.”

“Well,” she snorted, folding her arms, “I’m definitely never doing that again.”

“Good choice,” Torque nodded.  “Also, if you get any kind of bill for a damaged, old warship, don’t worry.  I’ll pay for it.”

“What?”

“Nothing.  Did you not read the memo I sent the team with details about the visitor teams?” Torque asked.  “I put it together when I heard they were in town.  I thought you especially would want to know about them.”

“Did you send the memo in a text?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been checking those.”

“Citrine,” Torque said scoldingly, “you need to check your messages.  If you don’t, I will change your text tone to the Pumpkin Pete jingle and start sending you things in the middle of Professor Merle’s lectures.”

“Don’t try her, Citrine.  She’ll do it!  She’s crazy!” Ware laughed at this fairly benign threat.

“Fine, I’ll check more often.  But now can you tell me about the other teams?” Citrine asked.  “Wait, is there someone on one of the teams named Ember?  A bird faunus?”

“Nope,” Torque said.  “Only other faunus is a cat—Springer Rowe, the leader of Team SAIJ from Beacon.  It’s her on the team along with Anatole Morel, Iris Lecuyer, and Joy Sweets.  Apparently, they’re already pretty well-known for their Grimm hunting prowess.”

Citrine had already started rolling her eyes as soon as she heard “Beacon.”  She didn’t consider herself a very prejudicial person, but there was just something about Beacon students and graduates that rubbed her the wrong way.  It seemed like the best news and stories about hunters always revolved around someone from Beacon; someone from Beacon resolved a feud without bloodshed, someone from Beacon single-handedly stopped Grimm from destroying a dam, someone from Beacon rescued 12 kittens from a tree and then handed them out at the local orphanage.  Hunters from the other academies never got featured in heroic tales like that.

Personally, Citrine suspected it was because hunters from other academies were too busy doing their actual jobs to worry about being such goody two-shoes.

“They’re not here at the station, are they?” she asked, wanting to make sure they were out of earshot before she started badmouthing Beacon out loud.

“No,” Torque said, “but there’s pictures going up on Hearth right now of them waiting at the air bus station.”  She held up her scroll, showing Citrine a fuzzy picture someone had taken of the back of someone else, presumably one of the Beacon students.  It just so happened that that someone in frame appeared to be wearing yellow short-shorts, a bright pink t-shirt and boots, and a crummy denim jacket tied around the front.  Her cowboy hat was denim as well, or rather, about 45% denim, 65% rhinestone, and 100% a fashion accessory that did not add up.

Citrine let out a laugh, grinning broadly.  “They sure have a funny idea of formalwear over in Vale,” she sniggered.  “I’d hate to have to show up at a televised ceremony with someone wearing _that_.”

“Um, Citrine?  Don’t speak too soon.”

Looking up, she noticed a shocked expression on Ware’s face and followed his gaze to something that left her own jaw dropping to the filthy floor of the train station.  Royal was there, strutting across the platform in an outfit that defied everything Citrine had come to see as sensible and rational and sane.  He was dressed in a suit jacket that was tightly fitted around his chest but poofy around the arms and frilled at sleeves.  His pantaloons had a similar poof to them, ending in frills at his knees, leaving his calves to be covered by a pair of silver silk stockings.  All of these items were also adorned with a number of bowtie ribbons.

If possible, the color design of the ensemble was even worse than its cut.  Instead of a simple pairing of colors, the suit jacket and pantaloons were both striped with a pattern of paisley purple and black, overlaid with a reaching spread of turquoise flowers.  He also wore an asymmetrical hat in the same purple pattern that had an obscenely wide brim on the right and was adorned with a tower of golden flowers on the left.

Citrine honestly hadn’t thought Royal could get any worse.  Evidently, she had been wrong. 

“Why?” she shouted at Royal before he had even reached the group.  She didn’t care if it drew attention to them.  Half the station was already staring at Royal and his ridiculous outfit anyway.  “Why do you always have to make everything more difficult?  Why are you the way you are?”

Royal stopped and placed a hand on his hip in a look of utter confidence.  With his bulky frame, he was practically bursting out of the outfit that looked like it belonged on someone much more petite, and it was making Citrine extremely uncomfortable.  “Now Citrine, you’ve no right to be jealous,” he scolded her evenly.  “You had every opportunity to allow me to assist you in selecting your own ensemble.  There is no one to blame but yourself that you aren’t able to be as fabulous as this.”  He gestured down the length of his body to the tip of his shiny, black booted toe.  She could practically see his calf muscles through those stockings.

“What even is this?” she demanded, wearing a distressed expression.

“This,” Royal said smugly, “is fashion.”

Beside Citrine, Torque was once again buried in her scroll, this time, possibly, in shame.  Ware looked nearly ready to split with laughter, but shocked Citrine even further as he rushed over and threw his arms around Royal’s neck, loudly proclaiming, “My, how stunning you look!  How slick, my Royally-Oilly!”

It took her a solid moment of pondering at Royal’s honest blush to remember that these two were apparently fake dating.  Sure enough, when she glanced over at Team LBRS, Spelt was peeking over his shoulder at the scene.  As soon as he looked away, Ware stepped back and pinched Royal’s cheek and cheerfully told him, “I hope you know you look almost ridiculous as this scenario is.”

Royal smiled back serenely, saying, “Now, I know you’re just saying that because you’re upset about our arrangement, but I still refuse to let that get to me.  This outfit was tailor-made for me by a team of the finest fashion designers in Mistral, the world’s hub of art, and nothing could give me more pleasure than to debut it today.”

Citrine watched his exchange in dumbfounded silence.  The words didn’t match the scenario, but their expressions were both so convincingly loving, it was hard to make her head think she wasn’t witnessing her teammates in a relationship with each other.

“This is going to be a very weird day, isn’t it?” she asked Torque.

Torque, who still refused to look up from her scroll, said, “Yup.” 

Citrine sighed.  How she’d thought she could have even one normal mission with her team was already beyond her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say we were finally getting to Kaijumura next chapter? Oh, I'm sorry. Obviously, I meant this coming next chapter. Obviously.  
> Basically, this chapter did not end up being what I expected it too, but I've been distracted with work and with another project as of late, so I had a hard time trying to pound out my original plan. But, yknow, I think a little filler and fluff is called for. After all, every RWBY product needs a Vol. 2 Unnecessary Outfit Change.
> 
> Team SAIJ belongs to my sister, adexia.


	12. IOU

His name was Leo Hotspur.  He was 17 and three months old.  He was from the kingdom of Vacuo.  He attended Shade Academy.  He was the leader of Team HARL, which consisted of Holly Goodhat, Aona Yasutake, Roxy Edison, and himself.  He and Team HARL were the ceremonial junior bodyguards representing Vacuo.  He had a lance-gun named Truthpoint that was gold with white stripes.  His favorite color was gold, but has second favorite was maroon, which he said was why he had designed his own maroon-colored breastplate-esque bullet-proof vest with a lion head emblem.  He was the son of Lana and Basim Hotspur and the oldest of their five children, the others being his sisters Persica, Azan, and Bleyen and his brother, Kruger.

His name was Leo Hotspur, and he was a tall beanpole of a boy with tan skin and golden curls.  His idea of formalwear was a black hoodie that looked like a suit of armor instead of his usual grey one, as he informed her.

His name was Leo Hotspur, and he had been talking to Citrine since the moment she stepped onto the train to Kaijumura.

“We will be arriving in Kaijumura in five minutes,” a voice announced over the train’s intercom. 

It didn’t seem like nearly soon enough.  Citrine wished she could have enjoyed the ride more.  She’d imagined grabbing a compartment with her team, watching the scenery zip past, and joining forces with Ware to further shame Royal and his outfit.  Instead, she had quickly been approached by dear Leo, whose own teammate, Roxy, had clued him in on who the other teams were.  He had been eager to approach the leader of the home team, instantly engaging Citrine in a very one-sided conversation.  Together, they had barely even left the door where they’d stepped onto the train.

At least, she and Leo barely had.  From her position, Citrine could still see into the rest of the compartment where her traitorous teammates were fraternizing with the international students.  Royal and his fake boyfriend were sitting with his ex-boyfriend and his new boyfriend, looking sickeningly cozy next to each other as they chatted up the members of Team LBRS.  Even Torque seemed to have struck up a friendly conversation with Roxy, a girl with pink dreads, a round, metallic backpack from which was protruding a mechanical, spider-like leg, and goggles in a formal shade of black.

And Citrine had Leo, dear Leo.

“The weather is really interesting in Mistral here, by the way,” Leo said as Citrine tugged at her braid in frustration.  “Generally speaking, it’s very hot in Vacuo.  Dry and arid in most places.  There are some rainforests!  Very few of them though.  They tend to also be hot, but pretty muggy too.”

She wished she could like Leo a little more as well.  He did seem eager to talk to her about Vacuan culture and his own team’s specs, something Citrine would normally be eager to do.  Her actual experiences with people from outside of Mistral were fairly limited.  It was just hard to do so when he wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise.

Sighing, Citrine glanced back into the train car, again settling her eyes on Ripple, the leader of Atlas’s team who was seated quietly beside her teammate Letitia.  She couldn’t help but fantasize about how she would rather be sitting with her right now, not only because of how much less chatty she seemed than Leo, but also because of just how cool she looked.  With her stiff, unbending posture, the no-nonsense look on her face, and her well-toned muscles, Ripple looked like a hardcore survivalist.  Citrine knew she wouldn’t mind exchanging notes with her.

But instead—

“You have some fantastic bodies of water here too,” Leo said, his orange eyes shining excitedly.  “Don’t have a lot of those in Vacuo either.  Except the ocean, but that’s usually pretty far away.  Unless that ocean is a desert.  After all, a desert is basically—”

His next words were drowned out by the screeching of wheels as the train pulled into its only stop.  The voice came over the intercom again, announcing, “We have arrived at our final destination.  Please exit the train in an orderly fashion and have a lovely day.”

The door slid open, and without waiting for her teammates to catch up, Citrine leapt from the car and onto the station platform.  She took a deep breath of the fresh, chilly air and took in her new surroundings.  The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was.  There were no chirping birds or rustling trees like there were in a forest.  There was no traffic from cars or people like there was in a regular city.  Even with people beginning to file out of the train, they were silent in awe, and looking beyond to Kaijumura’s streets and skyline, Citrine could see why.

Kaijumura had a different shape from Mistral.  Mistral had been built up as a celebration of art, not only in its culture, but in its architecture as well.  Although it featured substantial skyscrapers downtown, they were mostly recent additions to help Mistral keep up with the progress of the other kingdoms.  The rest of the city was a combination of curved-roof, single-story buildings in the traditional Mistralese fashion, unique structures for galleries and museums, and short apartment buildings for Mistral’s lower income residents.

Citrine couldn’t see the same patchwork pattern in Kaijumura.  With its uniform design of modern styles and glossy materials, coupled with traditional accents, such as curved-roof marquees or pillar-like corner lamps, the city looked as though it had been painted with the same stroke.  All of the streets were still perfectly paved and devoid of trash as well.  In the moment, it looked more like the idea of a city than a real one, and Citrine had to remind herself that the idea was that it was to be filled soon.

It really was a marvel, Citrine told herself, and something that could bring hope and comfort to millions around the globe.

The quiet awe of the moment was broken when Leo stepped onto the station and felt the need to comment on this as well.

“Wow.  This place is a lot bigger than I was imagining,” Leo said, whistling appreciatively as Citrine glared at him out of the corner of her eye.  “I mean, Mistral was a lot bigger than I was imagining too.  We don’t have a whole lot of big places in Vacuo, even in the big city.  One of the only really big ones I’ve seen is Shade Academy.  And the coms tower.  I haven’t been there though.  It’s also probably not as big as this anyway.”

“Really,” Citrine grumbled.  “Thrilling.”  She glanced down the station to see if any of her teammates had emerged from the train yet.  When she saw they hadn’t, she attempted to edge away regardless.

Leo followed her, possibly without even realizing it.  “It seems like almost everything is bigger here in Mistral.  I bet you wouldn’t have noticed that if you’ve never been outside of Mistral, but it’s true.  Although, I have heard that things are even bigger in Vale than in Mistral.  I’ve also heard things are even bigger in Atlas than in Vale.  Though, I’ve just heard that.  I haven’t actually seen it.”

“Great.  Really,” Citrine said, still edging away despite his insistence on following. 

“And you know what else I’ve heard is—”

Someone walked through Leo abruptly, startling the Vacuan boy as he rematerialized before him.  Citrine was equally shocked as the someone slung his arm around her shoulders in a chummy fashion and started leading her away, saying, “Great to see you, old buddy, old pal.  How long’s it been?  Too long is how long.  How about this weather, huh?”  Then, when they were far enough away, he quickly switched to a hushed tone, asking, “He gone now?”

She looked back and saw that Leo had already moved on, entertaining himself by chatting with his teammate Holly, dressed in her most formal pointy black hat.  “Yeah,” she said.  Then, she looked up at the person who had grabbed her and demanded, “Skull, what the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Skull snorted at her with scorn and said, “I don’t have to explain myself.  It’s a free kingdom, Sunshine.  I can go wherever I want.”

Citrine continued to stared at him in confusion and snapped, “No, you can’t!  This is a private event.”  Looking up and down at his outfit, which was much like his normal outfit with a skull-emblazoned t-shirt, today featured alongside jeans with more symmetrical rips and a blood red zip-up hoodie with spiked shoulder pads, she taunted him, “I doubt anyone gave _you_ an invite.”

“First of all, fucking rude.  You don’t have to be an asshole about it,” Skull said.  “Secondly, true.  Because of my semblance, I basically haven’t used a ticket to get in anywhere since I was 10.”

“Yeah, and _I’m_ the asshole,” she grumbled.  “Why are you here then?  And where’s your team?”

“Answer’s pretty much one in the same on those,” Skull said.  “They’re off saying good-bye to the teams leaving for Vale.  I’m here not doing that and not being around them.  Apparently once your team trusts you, they just wanna hang around you all the time.  They just follow you like puppies or something.  If you’d warned me about that, I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to get them back.”

Between snapping another retort back at him, Citrine thought on what he’d said.  In all her excitement for her own upcoming job, she’d forgotten the students who were going to compete in the Vytal Festival Tournament were leaving on the same day as Kaijumura’s opening.  At least, most of them were.  Sun had left nearly a week earlier with barely even a word to his teammates, let alone any of the other students or professors.

“I think it might be the Vacuan in him,” Sage had explained to her over lunch a few days ago.  They had made a point of it to meet up at least once after their date, just to make sure there were no hard feelings.  To Citrine’s relief, the two of them had managed to pull off a normal, friendly conversation.  “Sun moved around a lot when he was younger.  He might have been itching to make another move.”

Citrine had forgotten to give Sage or any of the others a proper good-bye or wish them good luck in the tournament, she realized with a pang of guilt.  Not to mention, she had also missed her last chance to see them for the rest of the semester.  SSSN, ABRN, and AMTH were only three teams out of the first-year class, but they had some of the biggest personalities, and Haven was going to feel a lot different without them.

“Well, thanks for getting me out from that dude,” Citrine said, “but I’ve gotta get going now.  You know,” she added, smiling up at him cheekily, “go do the job I actually got _invited_ here to do.” 

Skull snorted.  “Yeah, sure.  Go take care of that job that’s totally got nothing to do with getting those high profile teammates of yours to make an appearance,” he said, leading her to flush in annoyance.  “Just don’t forget, you owe me on this again.”

She stopped in her tracks and looked up at him in confusion.  “I’m sorry, what was that?” she demanded.  “ _I_ owe _you?_ ”

“Look, I know you’re not the brightest star in the galaxy, Sunshine, but did you not see me drag your ass away from that drip who was talking your ear off?”

“Yeah, but I assumed you were just doing that to pay me back for getting you back together with your team.”

“Fat load of a favor that was, saddling me with those people who are always trying to take up my time.”

“They’re called _friends_ , Skull!  Just admit you have _friends!_ ”

“And anyway, you were just paying me back then for getting your out of that awful date of yours.”

“You didn’t get me out of anything!  You flat-out just ruined my date.”

“Yeah, with boring-ass Sage Ayana.  You’re welcome.”

“Sage is a cool guy, okay?  Way more fun than _your_ bitter ass.  And even if that was a favor, you were clearly just paying me back for saving your ass when we were fighting the grounder.”

“I didn’t _need_ saving, Sunshine!  And you were just paying me back for saving you and the purple lump from the sanguiich.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Citrine said.  “That one had nothing to do with you.  That one was all Carmine.  You wanted nothing to do with us.  And,” she added, her sense of superiority rising, “and I was the one who led you and Carmine to the arena that day.  You two were totally lost and I already knew the way there.”

Skull opened his mouth to attempt to rebut her, but couldn’t find the words.  Citrine’s mouth split into the widest grin imagineable. 

“Admit it!” she cried out victoriously.  “You owe me!  After all this, you’re still the one who owes me!”

“Shut up,” Skull growled in annoyance.

“You owe me, and it’s gonna eat away at you because you’re a jerk who doesn’t believe in people just doing nice things for each other, so you’re gonna have to do something else for me in the future.  And you just _hate_ that.”

“Whatever,” Skull said, rolling his eyes.  “I’m gonna give you the worst favor ever.  Just you wait.”

“Ooh, a bad favor,” she laughed.  “I’m shaking in my—”

“ _Citrine._ ”

Citrine spun and flushed in embarrassment as she found Torque, Ware, and Royal standing in a row behind her.  She also realized in that moment that not only had she accidentally abandoned them at the train station, but that she had still been walking with Skull’s arm around her shoulders.  She quickly ducked out of his grasp and ran over to her teammates, Skull jumping slightly as she did as if he hadn’t realized how they were still positioned either.

Approaching them, she could see that Ware was smirking, amused for having caught Citrine in a compromising situation.  Torque seemed more annoyed than anything, casting stony glares in Skull’s direction as she waited for Citrine to return with her arms crossed.  Royal, however, welcomed her back with open arms, if a bit condescendingly.

“There you are,” he said, giving her a pat on the back.  “I’d hoped you hadn’t run off too far.  We have a job to do here, in case you’d forgotten, and it would be very unseemly of us to make an appearance without our leader.”

“Royal, I hope that _you_ of all people are not attempting to lecture me on how to be a hunter,” Citrine said.

“Merely making an observation,” Royal said, nervousness creeping into his voice as he observed Citrine’s hand twitching towards Harbinger.

“Not a bad one either,” Ware put in, although his amused expression called into question how serious he was being.  “You know, I really hope this recent trend of yours of running off alone doesn’t turn into a habit.  That would be _very_ unseemly indeed.”

“I hope your agreeing with Royal doesn’t turn into a habit either,” Citrine replied teasingly.  “Next thing you know, you two’ll be dating for real.”

Royal abruptly burst out laughing in a manner that sounded oddly forced and he said, sounding even more nervous, “Yes, and how weird would that be?  Me and Ware dating in reality?  That—that would be, ehem, strange and hilarious.  Indeed, right?”

Ware could only respond to that with a strange look. 

Ignoring this funny business, Torque hooked her elbow around Citrine’s and began walking her down the street again.  “I leave you alone for two seconds to talk to another mechanic and you end up getting dragged away by Skull,” she grumbled in agitation.  “Citrine, you’re really helpless sometimes.”

Citrine snorted, wondering if she should say it wasn’t like that.  She wondered if she should try to explain that now that she had seen past some of his bullshit, she no longer utterly despised him.  Would Torque understand that he still got under her skin, but only in the way Royal did, and that with her friends on Team SSSN and Team ABRN gone for the semester, that she might want to reach out to Skull now and again?

Perhaps not.

Instead, she settled for, “How was she anyway, the mechanic girl? Got any good knick-knacks?”

Torque hesitated as they walked past Skull, then shrugged.  “I got her number,” she said.  “We’re talking specs on her walker after the ceremony.”

Royal and Ware caught up with them, and as they headed off down the street together, Skull called after her, “Hey Sunshine, don’t mess up out there!  Make Haven look good.”

Citrine felt an excited little thrum in her chest and gave Skull a thumbs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first steps into Kaijumura, our first look at the Vacuan team. And Leo, dear Leo. 
> 
> Team HARL: Team Harlequin


	13. Red Carpet RWCT

In recent years, as she had matured, Citrine had begun to appreciate what a task it had been for Team RNBW and the rest of the Vermoss Hunting Commune to bring her up.  Without much structure in her life, she had been a wild and rambunctious child, always getting under people’s feet, always asking questions, always trying to “help” her elders and making even more of a mess for them to clean up.  Team RNBW had begun to train her as a hunter because she had wanted it so badly, but in part, it had also been an attempt to drill some discipline into her.

This tactic had been successful, but again, only in part.  In her early teens, Citrine had become intensely focused on her training, but she’d also become arrogant and rebellious.  Those were the days when she would spend the entire night outside of the caravan’s protective field and would attempt to challenge anyone and anything that even looked at her family the wrong way.  It had taken years of her seeing how Team RNBW would endanger themselves to help compensate for her mistakes for her to move out of that phase.

It was only in the last couple years that Citrine had mellowed and really began to take herself and her duties seriously so that others would stop having to take care of her.

It was only at the opening ceremonies for Kaijumura that Citrine began to really understand what her parents had been through, as well as why they had never stacked onto their workload by adopting a brother or sister for her.  One overexcited rocket, she now understood, was too much.  Three, she was learning, was a nightmare.

“Torque, stop touching those wires!  Royal, those cameras aren’t for you!  Ware—Ware?  Where the hell are you?”

Team RWCT was gathered around the red carpet leading up to the main stage where Folly Xalbadaor would soon give his presentation to officially open the city.  The staff for the event, including themselves, were supposed to meet behind the stage to receive their orders, but predictably, perhaps _too_ predictably, her teammates had gotten a little distracted along the way there.  Her team scattered to the winds, Citrine went first to retrieve the most obvious target—Royal in his ridiculous suit and hat who was attempting to chat up the paparazzi gathered beyond the velvet rope. 

“Royal Mauvello—that’s M-A-U-V-E-double L-O,” he was telling a reporter, a green haired woman recording the conversation with her scroll.  “Although, I’m sure you must be aware of that already.  I am the heir to the Monarch Communication Technologies Company after all, and you _are_ holding one of our fine products in your hand.”

“Okay, that’s enough outta you,” Citrine said, slapping a hand on his shoulder.  “Time to go.”

“Oh, but Citrine,” Royal pouted at her, “this reporter was so insistent to get the scoop on my involvement in this whole affair!  I can’t exactly leave her floundering without an interview, can I?  That would be disrespectful of her time.”

“Er, actually,” the reporter said, holding her scroll up hopefully, “I was just wondering if you could comment on your relationship with Ware Sterling.  You two have been spotted together around town, and the Daily Breeze is desperate for the details.”

“Oh, dear Ware and I?  We’re—”

“Leaving,” Citrine cut him off.  She shot a sour look at the reporter, then unceremoniously shoved her shoulder under Royal’s chest, picked him up with a grunt, and carried him off.

“Is this entirely necessary, Citrine?” Royal demanded.

“Yes!” she snapped, ignoring the strange looks everyone was giving the sight of her carrying her overgrown partner around the red carpet of the biggest event of the year.  “We’re here to be professionals, not answer silly interview questions, so I’m going to make sure we damn well act like professionals!  Torque!”

Torque didn’t so much as flinch at Citrine’s shout.  She was too engrossed in her work, which appeared to be flipping through a series of images that had appeared above the lamppost projector.

“Torque,” Citrine repeated with an exasperated sigh.  “I didn’t even turn my back on you and you went and—and hijacked a lamppost or something?  What are you even doing?  And how?"

“Just the projector on the lamppost,” Torque corrected her.  “I did the rest with my scroll.  I felt like checking out the specs for the city’s defense mechanisms.”  Citrine opened her mouth to scold her, but Torque gestured for her to look at something.  She used her scroll to flip to the next image, an armed laser turret sitting atop a corner.  “These are positioned on governmental buildings around the city,” she explained.  “They can be used to shoot down flying Grimm or rogue airships.  That’s UPAC tech in them.  Way higher caliber and accuracy than the mass-produced stuff from Atlas.

“And this,” she said, flipping to the next image, a mechanized wall arising between two skyscrapers, "this can be used to quarantine certain districts from the rest of the city in case of a breach.”  Torque’s eyes glimmered with pride and she smiled for a moment, saying, “I actually got to collaborate on that last time I was home.  Helped improve the lift mechanics without sacrificing door strength.”  Torque looked up at Citrine and asked, “Pretty cool, right?”

“Okay, well…okay, yeah.  That is pretty cool,” Citrine admitted, thinking of how much she would’ve given for the commune’s wagon to have mounted turrets like that.

“Excellent work, Torque!” Royal called out approvingly.

The glint of pride turned to mischievousness as Torque asked, “Want me to see if I can activate them from here?”

“Alright, _now_ we’re done,” Citrine said grabbing her hand and pulling her away.

“But Citrine—”

“We are not getting arrested on our very first job,” she insisted.  "Especially not for disabling security in what’s supposed to be the most secure system in the world.  Now, where is Ware already?”

“Ware is where we left him,” Royal supplied.  “He seemed a bit wary of these crowds.”

Citrine sighed and shook her.  “Of course he did.”  Because none of her teammates could ever just make anything easy, could they?

She found Ware out of sight of the main event, leaning against the corner of a bleacher by a water cooler.  With his large sunglasses on and his arms folded, he seemed distant and removed from the moment.

“Ware, come on.  _You_ at least have to behave,” Citrine said as she walked up to him with Royal and Torque still in tow.  “I can’t grow another arm.”

Ware turned his head to glance at the crowd of paparazzi beyond the carpet.  Citrine noticed his posture stiffen and his ears flicker uncomfortably.  “I suppose,” he murmured.

Noting his discomfort, Citrine frowned.  “Hey,” she said, nudging his shoulder with her head.  “What’s up?”

He smiled slightly at the gesture.  “I know this is silly,” Ware said, scratching his head, “but this is the first public appearance I’ve made as me since I started at Haven.  Since I announced I was leaving Star Shot, actually.  It’s a bit…intimidating, to say the least.”

“Are you nervous about them seeing you?” she asked.  “They must know already that you’re a hunter-in-training now.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Ware said.  “Just showing my face at an event like this will fuel their fires for months.  They’re all just poised to judge and overanalyze me as soon as I step out there.  Whatever I do, if I’m too happy or chatty or distant or cold, there’ll be a thousand theories on what I’m secretly thinking or what ulterior motives I have, and as always, it’ll reflect on faunus everywhere.”  He shook his head.  “I’m just really beginning to realize that Ware Sterling will never again be just a person.  I’ll always have to be a public figure.”

It was odd seeing Ware looking uncomfortable, even nervous, for once.  Whether he was content or annoyed or in the zone in the heat of battle, he always seemed put together and sure of what he was thinking.  Citrine had begun to rely on him as a sort of guide post for that steadfastness, to help her know when to push forward or when to reel it in.  She wanted to help him feel better, but all this celebrity and publicity stuff was so far out of her realm, she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Citrine,” Royal said from behind her, “down please.  Best behavior, I promise.”  Trusting him not to break his word, Citrine knelt to let him off her shoulder.  Royal took a brief moment to check that his suit was in order before putting a hand on Ware’s shoulder, saying, “Ware, my dear, dear friend, I would like to assure you that in two to three years, you will be next to nothing to those people.”

Ware raised a curious eyebrow at him.  Torque nudged Citrine and said, “I’m really can't tell.  Was that supposed to be reassuring?”

“I mean it sincerely!” Royal insisted.  “I’ve lived in a world of rumors and gossip my entire life.  We live and die by our reputations in the upper classes and it becomes essential to understand how long information survives without momentum.  All the Ware Sterling hype may have a longer shelf life than normal but trust me, even _your_ face can’t provide consistent magazine sales forever.  As long as you don’t do anything too outrageous while you’re in school, they should start to forget you soon enough.”

“And even if they do keep following you,” Citrine nodded, taking Royal’s lead, “it shouldn’t mean shit to you.  I know you’re gonna do good things.  You’re gonna make faunus look good.  And you’re gonna be more than just Ware Sterling, okay?  You’re a hunter on Team RWCT.  That's who you really are.  And when you're with us, you just get to be you.”

Ware let out a small laugh and glanced at Torque.  “Any warm and encouraging words from you?” he asked.

Torque shrugged.  “I’ve got nothing,” she said, “but if people write bad stuff about you, I can take down their websites.  Just destroy them.”

Ware’s posture seemed to relax, his ears setting forward again.  He removed his sunglasses and, after a moment’s hesitation, put his hand on Royal’s.  “Thank you all," he said with a soft smile.  “It’s just good to hear that from friends.”

“C’mon,” Citrine said, cheering up along with him.  “Let’s get going to our real job.  And Ware, if you need me to go off on the reporters like I did on Perdita and break some cameras, just let me know.”  She tried to head out from around the bleachers, but had to stop when she noticed that Royal was the one frozen in place now, looking oddly pale.  “Royal,” she groaned at him, “am I going to have to carry you again?”

Royal abruptly snapped his hands to his side and snapped back into his usual manner.  “And risk you damaging my suit with those gruff, grubby fingers of yours?” he scoffed.  “I think not.”

A greater flurry of photographs and called out questions accompanied Team RWCT’s brief walk down the red carpet.  A stranger to this sort of attention, Citrine kept glancing nervously between the reporters and Ware.  Even as they bombarded him with questions from, “Why did you decide to become a hunter?” to “Have you been in contact with Star Shot?” to “Are you in a relationship with the Monarch heir?” he seemed to keep it cool, only occasionally shooting them serene smiles and small waves.  Seeing his confidence let Citrine feel confident as well, and she followed his lead down the carpet to behind the main stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another "short" chapter. Was originally supposed to be part of a longer one, part of the final push to The Big Thing, but I decided it didn't thematically fit with what's next. Hell, I might have to do the same for the next one, depending on how long a certain part ends up being. Either way, chapter after this is getting hella new characters, hella important characters, and certain...points getting brought up.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy this brief exploration of FRIENDSHIP.


	14. Kaijumura

On the backstage of the opening ceremony for Kaijumura, it was Citrine’s turn to fangirl.

The curtained off space behind the stage was abuzz with just as much activity as the hectic red carpet, and even more packed with sound and video equipment.  Every five feet or so, it seemed that there was another computer station manned by a pair of technicians running through effects that would accompany the presentation and mic checks with people out of sight.  Aside from them, there were dozens of people rushing back and forth with serving trays and champagne flutes, wrenches and gun barrels, and entire robot bodies.

What caught Citrine’s attention amongst all the chaos were the people who were still and calm.  Their numbers were few and they seemed largely independent from each other, but they were easy to spot by their armor, their weapons, and their scars.  The ceremonial junior bodyguards weren’t the only security at the event.  There were full-blown hunters there too.

“Oh my stars,” she gasped.

Citrine’s eyes widened and her face lit up as she realized what kind of company they were in.  “Oh my _stars_ ,” she repeated, jumping up and down and clenching her fists excitedly.  “Are you guys seeing this?  Do you the scars on that lady’s face?  Can you image how big the Grimm must have been that gave her that?  Ooh, ooh, and do you see that guy with the claw gauntlets?  See the grooves on those bracers behind them?  He’s definitely got some backup blades there.  Or maybe even mini-turrets!”  She grabbed Royal’s sleeve and started tugging on it, pointing out a man with golden side plate armor engraved with a Grimm mask pattern.  “And you see that?  Can you order me something like that?” 

Instead of being taken aback by this request, Royal’s expression lit up and he gasped, “Citrine!  I should’ve known the key to your fashion sense would lay in light-plated armor.  Of course I can do that.  Do you have something in mind for the engraving?  Your emblem, perhaps?”

“That, or something else floral,” she nodded.  “Like a big, beautiful sunflower or something?”

“See, I like where you’re at thematically with that, but for design purposes, we may want to go with something with petals that outsize the face.  What about some lilies?  Big, bold lilies, they seem like they should suit you.  Or perhaps _larkspurs_.  _Larkspurs_ are a bit on the small side, but in the language of flowers, they can mean openheartedness, which I think might resonate with you.”

Beside them, Torque had subtly raised her scroll and was recording the conversation, in part because she thought Citrine getting this excited was adorable, in part because she felt it would be useful in case Citrine said Torque was getting too distracted by machines again.  Clearly, she was not the only one who could be distracted.

Ware, meanwhile, was shaking his head affectionately and murmuring, “I guess it even happens to the best of us.”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind them said.  “Are you the representatives from Haven?”

They turned, expecting to find another staff member there; one designated for wrangling the ceremonial junior bodyguards.  Instead, they were all shocked to be face to face with Folly Xalbador, the man whose company and whose efforts had led to the creation of the entire city in which they now stood, as well as another man at his side.  Citrine in particular was surprised to see that despite the formal occasion, he was dressed in what looked to be the exact same tweed suit he had appeared in to film the commercial advertising Kaijumura.  She was also surprised that he was quite short in person; barely taller than Torque.

More physically impressive was the man at his side who, with his slick, black crew cut, black suit jacket and dark orange sweater, and his lack of a visible weapon, Citrine pegged as Xalbador’s bodyguard.  He was built similarly to Royal, very tall with obvious muscles, but unlike Royal, who was finicky and flamboyant, this man stood stock still, imposing like a mountain, with even his expression cold and unmoving.  Citrine was also drawn to a scar that scored across his left eye and a considerable portion of his pale face.  It was broad and heavily discolored, just like the eye it ran across, as if both had healed poorly after the initial injury.

To Citrine, there was something…off-putting about that scar.  What kind of hunter not only let that happen, but let it go untreated?

It took an awkward moment of silence as well as a nudge from Royal for Citrine to realize that she should be the one to greet them back.

“Um, yeah.  I mean, yes,” Citrine said, weaving past Royal and Ware to meet Xalbador.  “We’re Team RWCT.  From Haven.  I’m Citrine, and that’s—”

“Oh, there’s no need for introductions, Miss Vermoss,” Xalbador said, smiling around at their team.  “I’m very familiar with your team already.  Why, I hand selected you to be your school’s representatives for this event!”

“Oh,” Citrine said, biting her lip awkwardly.  “I guess you would’ve.”

“Not to mention, I believe I’m already familiar with several of you on a personal level,” he added, walking up to Royal and shaking his hand.  Citrine noticed his guard shift slightly as he did.  “So good to see you again, Mr. Mauvello,” he said.  “I’m not sure if you remember me.  It was so long ago, but—”

“Mr. Xalbador, I remember _all_ of my family’s guests!” Royal exclaimed jovially.  “You brought me that magnificent wooden rocking panther at my seventh birthday party.”

“Yes, that was one of the last occasions I was able to tear myself away from my work long enough to travel to Atlas for pleasure,” he said.  “Would you tell that dear mother of yours to feel free to start sending invitations to those exquisite parties of hers again?  With Kaijumura complete, I believe I’ll have a bit more time to enjoy them now.”

“Oh, Mr. Xalbador, I’m sure she would be very pleased to host you again.”

“And of course you, Miss Usi,” Xalbador said, moving over and putting a hand on her shoulder.  “This city’s defenses wouldn’t have been possible without help from UPAC.  As I understand it, you yourself were involved in a few of the designs.”

Citrine was surprised to see the normally stoic Torque’s eyes aglow with admiration as he spoke to her.  She supposed if there was anyone Torque would have such respect for, it was the man who had built his own city full of mechanized defenses from the ground up.  “Yessir, that was me,” Torque nodded eagerly.  “And thank you for the opportunity to work on it.  I see security flaws in buildings all the time, and it always bothers me when I’m not allowed to work on them.”

“Well, we’re always looking for active new minds at Mumus Industries,” Xalbador said.  “Why don’t we review some of your work after the ceremony and we can talk about getting you set up in summer internship in the city.”

Torque turned and mouthed a silent, excited scream to Citrine.  Citrine replied with an enthusiastic thumbs up while also shelving the plan she’d made to invite Torque to travel with the commune that summer.

“And Mr. Sterling,” Xalbador said, walking up to Ware, who had so far been watching the conversation with guarded interest.  “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but I actually had a hand in the formation and early promotion of Star Shot.”

“I had heard that,” Ware said evenly, “but I always thought it was rather curious.  Might I ask, exactly what interest did a construction magnate have in a pop band?  Aside from the revenue streams, of course.”

Xalbador chuckled, his pale green mustache twitching as he gave Ware an appreciative pat on the arm.  He seemed so much more human than Citrine had been expecting him to be.  “Quick as a whip, just as I heard,” he commented.  “I admit, I do appreciate how commercially successful the band became, but that was not my sole goal in its creation.  I have always adored my kingdom’s strong roots in the arts.  That’s a true mark of civilization after all, the ability to create and celebrate art.  There are even a number of classical restaurants, galleries, and concert halls in town of which I am a patron.  However, when I visit these establishments, I can’t help but notice the utter lack of youths present, which led me to believe that traditional Mistralese culture is becoming inaccessible to them, either because of the lack of appeal or because of the price tag."

"Often a combination,” Ware nodded.

“Which is precisely why I wanted to help introduce Mistral to a new wave of culture,” Xalbador said.  “Something that spoke to a new generation of people whose lives were touched by different events than those that influenced culture after the Great War.”  Ware tilted his head slightly, seeming genuinely interested in this point.  “That is also why your presence in Star Shot was important to me.  I was pleased that the young faunus of Mistral whose parents and grandparents were excluded from the arts as well were able to see themselves in the ranks of one of the greatest musical acts of the century.  In the past, I had even begun to hope that you and Star Shot would be able to perform at my city’s opening, though I see that you’ve found your own way to participate.”

“A preferable way, if I may say,” Ware said.  “But I do appreciate the thought, Mr. Xalbador.”

Xalbador nodded and took a step back, looking over all of them.  Yet, after personally acknowledging all of her teammates and then giving her the brush-off, Citrine couldn’t help but think he was looking straight through her.  “Now, I will personally thank all of my ceremonial junior bodyguards later,” he told them, “but I simply had to give some extra attention to the shining stars of my home kingdom.  I cannot thank you brave, young hunters enough for agreeing to protect this city today.”

Beside her, Citrine’s teammates seemed to inflate with importance at his words and she tried to puff out her chest to match their enthusiasm.  It was difficult to do however, when she was suddenly feeling so shabby amongst this crowd of wealth and prestige.

Beside Xalbador, his bodyguard cleared his throat and said, “We need to be going now, Mr. Xalbador.”  He had a much smoother and refined voice than Citrine had been expecting.  “You’re needed in makeup.”

“Oh, pshhh.  Makeup,” Xalbador scoffed.

“ _Mr. Xalbador_ ,” the bodyguard repeated firmly.

“Oh, yes.  Fine, Mr. Hollow,” he relented good-naturedly.  “Farewell for now, Team RWCT.  There’ll be someone by shortly to give you further instructions for the ceremony.”  He waved them good-bye and took off backstage, his bodyguard, Hollow, at his back.  While her teammates stared after him in admiration, Citrine shuffled her feet, feeling awkward.  She knew she belonged here as a hunter, but she was beginning to question if she belonged on that stage with people like Xalbador who affected the shape of the world.

“Wasn’t that _cute?_   Nice little inspirational speech for the kiddies.”

Citrine turned, half-expecting to find Skull there, based on the scorn in this person’s voice.  The person she found crouched atop one of the speakers was pale and thin like him, but was in many other ways different.  She was a woman, for one thing, and looked considerably older, at least as old as Team RNBW.  She wore a powder blue cloak dusted with speckles over a black, button-up shirt and steel gray pants.  She had pale blue eyes and a pale gray pixie cut that almost matched the shade of her washed out skin.  It was also impossible for Citrine to not think of Skull when she looked at the woman and saw the nasty grin on her face.  It was enough to set her on edge.

“Excuse me?’ Citrine asked the woman.  “What was that?”

The woman’s eyes seemed to light up at the confrontation and she slid her legs out to dangle over the edge of the speaker.  “Nothing you need to worry your head over, missy,” she said in a condescending tone.  “Just commenting on that classic managerial technique ol’ X has going on there.  Flattery’s the best way to get cheap loyalty and get his money’s worth out of his soldiers.”

Torque tensed uncomfortably.  Royal scoffed, “ _I never_.”

“We’re not soldiers.  We’re _hunters_ ,” Citrine snapped.  “And we’re not here because we’re paid.  We’re here because we want to protect Kaijumura.  There’s a lot of people whose hopes are riding on this city and—what?”

The woman had begun to chuckle.

Citrine was already itching to grab Harbinger.  There was just _something_ about this woman.  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“Oh,” she sighed, “just the little baby junior hunter-in-training trying to lecture me about hope.  _Really_ takes me back.”

“To when?” Ware asked, hostility for this woman coming off him in waves.  “When scrolls were still paper?”

Citrine was immensely glad to have Ware on her team in that moment, even if the woman did completely ignore his quip.

“Back to when I was in Haven,” she carried on.  “Back to when I was surrounded by all those young fools who thought hunting was about hopes and dreams and all that kind of bullshit.  Back before most of us learned that, like everything else, it’s all about the money.”

“What?” Citrine exclaimed indignantly.  “No it’s not!  It’s about protecting people!”

The woman rolled her eyes.  “Gimme a break, kid.  You honestly think anyone would become a hunter if they didn’t get paid for it?” she snorted.  “Moreover,” she added, making Citrine flush angrily, “you think anyone _could?_ ”  She gestured around and asked, “Do you think any of this would exist without money?  Without profits from X’s businesses?  Without the promise of profit for everyone else who worked on it?  Keep dreaming your dreams, honey.  The real world’s literally only about what’s in it for you.”

Perhaps it was the fact that there was definitely money in the air at this event and how it made her feel so out of place, even on her team, but this woman harping on the subject and rubbing it in her face made Citrine snap.  “Shut up!  You don’t know what you’re talking about!” she shouted at the woman.  “That’s not what hunters do!  That’s not what we’re here for!  We’re better than that!  We’re—”

Citrine blinked.

The woman disappeared.

Citrine froze.

Not a vague stopping in place out of fear or shock freeze, but a complete, full stop; a literal inability to move.  Her heart began to race as she realized it was even difficult to breathe in this state.  Only with effort could she turn her eyes to see the thin, pale hand that had been placed on the shoulder and the thin pale woman it was attached to; the woman who was now addressing her alarmed teammates.

“Hey kiddies, you might want to keep a tighter leash on your leader here,” the woman was telling them teasingly.  “Next time she pisses off a real hunter, it might not be someone who’s willing to be so patient about it.”

Behind her, Citrine heard the familiar sound of Torque’s toolbox beginning to transform, of Royal beginning to draw his sword.  Her own stupid hands were frozen useless under the effects of whatever semblance the woman was using on her.  However, before any of the parties could escalate the situation, a new voice called out, “North, you’re not causing trouble, are you?”

The woman turned her head.  “Bluebell,” she said.

Citrine gasped and felt a jolt in her stomach as the woman, North, removed her hand from her shoulder.  She stumbled forward a step but a rough, tanned hand reached out to help support her.  Mumbling a bitter thanks, she looked up into the face of a middle-aged faunus man whose sandy brown rabbit ears hung over the sides of his head. 

With his long face, long front teeth, and smattering of freckles across his small nose, he had a slightly unconventional look to him, but his cheerful smile and bright green eyes were what drew most of the attention—those, and his colorful clothes.  Though his button-up shirt was a fairly normal shade of brown, he had paired it with baby blue suspenders attached to a pair of pants made up of a patchwork of pastel colors.  The fact that he also wore along with these a pair of oversized boots that looked mechanical and metallic, but were painted spring green, left Citrine feeling unsure of what to think of this man.

“Heya kiddo,” the man, Bluebell, greeted her, ruffling her hair affectionately.  “North here wasn’t bothering you, was she?  Here, for your troubles.”  He pressed something into her palm—a foil-wrapped, bird-shaped piece of chocolate.

“Don’t baby them, Bluebell,” North groaned at him, rolling her eyes.  “These guys clearly wanna be treated them like adults, so I was just telling them how it is.”

“Oh, right.  And I’m sure your completely factual and unbiased report of ‘how it is’ will be a tremendous help to them in the years to come,” Bluebell laughed, walking over to lean on North’s shoulder as he addressed Team RWCT.  “Kids, please forgive my teammate,” he told them, giving North a playful nudge, even as she glared daggers at him.  “She gets a little grumpy when she’s around, well, _people_.  Fairly new condition she developed too, just about, oh, 45 years ago now.”  He looked around expectantly at Team RWCT, but after their encounter with North, most of them weren’t feeling too giddy.

Royal, at least, gave him a polite chuckle, because _he_ hadn't been raised in a barn.

“Tough crowd, huh?” Bluebell snorted.  “Kids these days.  Well, that’s what I get for letting North run this show.  Anyway, you guys are the team from Haven, right?”

“Um,” Citrine said a little dumbly, “yeah.”

“Okay.  Just line up by the side of the stage with the other kiddies,” Bluebell instructed them.  “They’ll call you up for the ceremony and then you just stand up there for the duration and try not to distract anyone too much.”

Citrine stared at him a moment.  “That’s it?”

“Yep,” he nodded.  “That’s it.  Now, shoo!  Go be the best ceremonial junior bodyguards you can be!  And don’t forget to turn off your scrolls!  Don’t want any annoying calls interrupting the ceremony.” 

Sighing, Citrine gestured for her team to head off.  They did so, a definitive air of dejection hanging around them now. 

Hanging back with her teammate, North watched them go, then folded her arms and muttered, “Dumb kids.”

Bluebell glanced at her and asked, “What’s up that’s got you so cantankerous, huh?  You usually just ignore kids rather than going out of your way to harass them.”

“It’s nothing,” North grumbled, unconvincing to Bluebell’s well-attuned mood sensors for her.

Lowering his voice, he nodded back to Haven’s team and said, “You see it too, don’t you?”  When North pursed her lips into a thin line of acknowledgment, he carried on, “That blonde one’s the spitting image of Ceres.  Right down to the braid—it’s uncanny!”  When North didn’t reply, he began to suggest, “You don’t suppose she—”

North let out a bark of laughter.  “As if,” she said.  “As if that woman could ever… _would_ ever have a child.”  Despite her own argument, her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the blonde girl as she led her team up to the stage, fists clenched and face flushed in anger and frustration.  That attitude alone wasn’t anything like Ceres’s.  In fact, there was a lot about her that wasn’t like Ceres, so she wasn’t sure why she had gone so far in antagonizing her as she used to antagonize her old teammate.  

There was just _something_ about that girl. 

===

It should have felt like a bigger moment, Citrine knew, as she stepped up onto that stage alongside Team RWCT.  She knew she should have felt nervous with the eyes of hundreds of guests and reporters aimed at her.  She knew she should have been bursting with pride for herself and her teammates as they stood in the spot they had earned at one of the most important events of the century.  She knew she, at the very least, should have felt annoyed when the Valen and Atlesian teams were positioned on one side of the stage and the Mistralese and Vacuan teams were placed on the other and she had to listen to Leo Hotspur go on and on about how cool this experience was and how many people there were, right up until the moment when Xalbador started his speech.

She wanted to be present in this moment she had been looking forward to for weeks, but with Xalbador overlooking her and North getting under her skin with what she’d said and what she’d been able to do with her semblance, she just couldn’t focus.  It was hard for her to maintain the thought that she belonged here just as much as everyone else when she was surrounded by the accomplishments of money—something she had never had or planned to have a lot of.  It was hard to see herself equal to her friends when Royal’s parents could hold elaborate parties and host the likes of Folly Xalbador and her parents had been struggling to keep their business afloat in the face of Grimm shortages and airship surpluses.

People like Xalbador and the Mauvellos and the Usis could change the world with a single call.  What could she ever do in comparison with her little axe?

Citrine was so caught up in thinking of the differences between herself and her teammates, it took a thunderous roar of cheers for her to even notice that Xalbador, now center stage, had begun his speech.

“My friends from Mistral and from around the world,” Xalbador began, “welcome, one and all, on this momentous occasion, to the opening of Kaijumura!”

He paused as another round of cheers and applause rose up from the crowd.  Citrine looked out over the sea of faces and even in the colorful mixed crowd, she could easily notice another case of class division that allowed the better dressed guests to be seated closer to the stage.

The better dressed guests and _Skull_ , that was, who Citrine noticed was distinctly sprawled across two seats in the front row.  She felt she’d never liked him more than in that moment with his ratty boots kicked up in the face of another fancy hat-wearer.

“This city is the culmination of my life’s ambition,” Xalbador carried on.  “It began as a dream.  In the wake of tragedies that stole some of Mistral’s precious villages and all the lives and livelihoods therein, I could only dream that someday, there would be somewhere else comparable to Mistral in size and strength that would provide a sanctuary for its citizens.  However, after being inspired by tales of hearty villagers whose only option was to attempt to rebuild their lost villages time and time again, I realized there was so much more I could do to bring this dream to life. 

“I spent years designing a city with the latest developments in defensive architecture, raising funds from every possible industry I could become involved with, and at last building this city brick by brick.  And though some say this city would not have been possible without my efforts, I say my efforts would have been fruitless without the assistance of all those who walked with me on the path to this city’s creation.  From brilliant minds who first consulted on the plans to the donors who gave not only money, but their priceless time to raising funds to the skilled craftsmen who built Kaijumura from the ground up, I say this city is everyone’s triumph!  This is a city for all!”

Another cheer rose up and even Royal and Torque began to applaud while Ware seemed earnestly impressed.  Citrine, however, looked over the city’s skylines and streets and felt torn.  Of course Kaijumura was a marvel of innovation and collaboration, and with any luck, it would service many people for many years to come, but she still had to wonder how much of it, if any, would exist without the promise of profit for its contributors.  It was incredibly disheartening for someone who had just begun to question her purpose as a hunter to be faced with the prospect of having to do her job based solely on who could pay her.

Her distraction from the ceremony did offer Citrine one prospect.  As she was looking out over the streets, beyond the crowds and the crew gathered for the ceremony, she noticed one figure glancing in at the stage from the red carpet—a familiar figure with vibrant, red wings.

Catching sight of her, Citrine frowned in confusion.  “Ember?” she whispered.

Ember, who had noticed her attention, smiled, winked, and skipped off down the street.

Citrine stared around, uncertain of what to do, but when she realized that apparently no one else had noticed this girl, she felt there was only one thing that made sense.  She may be a ceremonial junior bodyguard, but she was still a bodyguard.

Citrine abruptly ran and hopped off the stage, bolting after Ember, even with the shocked and confused faces of her teammates staring after her.

She was out in the streets fast enough to see a pair of red wings disappearing around the corner and she hurried to catch up with them, calling out, “Ember!  Wait up!”  Outside of the commotion of the opening ceremonies, the streets were silent and utterly devoid of people, and around the corner, it was only Ember waiting for her at the end of the block.  Citrine slowed to approach her, saying, “Ember, what’re you doing here?  The city’s not open yet.”

Ember was smirking at her mischievously.  “Oh?” she asked.  “Well, sorry about that Citrine, but I’m kind of having fun out here on my own.  I’m not exactly interested in waiting for some dusty old man to finish his speech to look around.”  When Citrine hesitated at that, Ember leaned forward and teasingly asked, “Is there anything you’re going to do about that?”

This had definitely not been included in her instructions of, “Go stand on stage and behave.”  “Well, I’m here as security,” she said slowly, “so I guess I’m going to have to… _stop_ you from doing that.”

Ember threw her head back and laughed.  “Okay then,” she said, shrugging playfully.  “Try and do your little job.  Just know you’ll have to catch me to do it.”  Before Citrine could make a move towards her, Ember spread her wings to their full span—nearly 10 feet in all—and flapped them, lifting her into the air.

For a moment, Citrine stared, dumbstruck, wondering if she had seriously underestimated what a bird faunus could do with their wings.  Then she noticed the air whipping in concise circles on the ground beneath her and realized it was much more likely she was dealing with someone with a wind control semblance.  Although it was a strange situation, Citrine couldn’t help but be tempted by the challenge of it.  Ember smirked at her and flew off down the streets.  Eagerly, Citrine ran after her.

The chase through the empty streets of Kaijumura felt like a a training scenario.  On the run, she passed all the markers of civilization—apartment buildings, grocery stores, boutiques, toy stores, flower shops, tattoo parlors—but with all of them devoid of tenants, employees, and customers, it made the world she was in seem all the more simulated, as if this chase was merely another elaborate exercise set up for her by Professors Wine and Lu. 

Ember added to that feeling too, at first.  With the skies clear, Citrine knew she should have been able to zoom past her in an instant or at least fly out of her reach, but she kept flying just fast enough to let Citrine stay on her tail, and she kept looking back to make sure she was still there.  It almost felt like she was playing with her.

At least, that was how it felt until Citrine rounded one corner and found herself facing down a shower of fire dust crystal shards.  Citrine drew Harbinger in rifle form and fired off a shot at the center of the cluster.  A few shards exploded, setting off the others in a chain reaction that blossomed out and created a ring of fire that landed on all sides of her.  Hovering there at the source of the shards was Ember, watching to see what she would do next.

“What the hell?” Citrine demanded, attempting to stomp out the flames.  While it would be terrible if the city caught on fire, Citrine also knew her team couldn’t afford another act of public destruction on their record.

And, she figured, Royal would kill her if she ruined another outfit.

Ember laughed and gestured forward, saying, “Keep up!  We’ve got places to be!”  She shot off and when Citrine tried to run after her again, Ember swept a wing at her, sending a shower of ice dust shards over her.  Citrine had to leap and roll forward to avoid being frozen to the ground.

“Ember, c’mon!” she shouted up at her.  “Stop messing with the city and get down!”

Ember only swung another wing at her, this time sending a shower of earth dust shards that shredded the hem of her dress when she could only partially avoid them with a hasty dodge.  Citrine gritted her teeth as she regained her footing.  She was getting the feeling that Ember wasn’t merely playing rough here.  She cursed Xalbador as well for not providing any trees on these streets she could use to fight back.

Gravity dust came next, as they dug deeper into the maze of a city, sending stray trash cans and mail boxes in Citrine’s direction, followed soon after by steam dust, which turned out to be a smokescreen for lightning dust that ran a painful charge through her chest.  Citrine was only fueled by these attacks, however.  The fact that Ember was attacking her at all had to mean she was trying to keep her from something, and that made it her duty to find out what that something was. 

The next time Ember sent an attack at her—either a wave of air dust or a sweep of her own semblance—Citrine did more than just dodge.  She used the gust of the attack to carry her higher as she leapt, high enough to hook the axe head of Harbinger onto the outstretched pole of a marquee.  With the momentum of the jump, she swung all the way around and then fired off a shot to blast herself at Ember.  She managed to catch the faunus girl’s ankle and clung to it tightly as Ember faltered and attempted to shake her off.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” Citrine growled, aiming Harbinger’s rifle up at her ride.  She fired a shot that Ember instinctively blocked with a wing but clashed with the dust shards that lined her feathers.  There was a blast of different dust effects and both Citrine and Ember were sent crashing to the ground in an open lot. 

Both of the girls smashed into the fresh pavement, skidding and smoking from the effects of the dust that had hit them, but Citrine scrambled to her feet determinedly as soon as she could, feeling a thrill when she saw Ember still laying unmoving.  She attempted to make one last charge with Harbinger raised, to end this senseless chase, but before she could take a swing, a swirling patch of darkness appeared in her path.  As Citrine stumbled aside to try to avoid it, the darkness solidified into a person—a tall boy with copper hair and twin, green sashes that covered his otherwise bare chest.  The boy had barely solidified before swinging a kick almost too fast to see at Citrine’s head and sending her once again skidding across the pavement.

In shock and pain on the ground, Citrine could barely hear the conversation that took place next, let alone see it.

“Ember, you didn’t actually let that girl hit you, did you?”

“C’mon Connor, who do you think you’re talking to?  It just seemed like a quick way to clean out the extra dust in my wings.”

“Why did you even bring her here in the first place?  This is meant to be a secret mission.  It can’t very well be secret if she’s seen all our faces.  I’m not going to have to remove someone’s eyes again, am I?”

“ _Relax_ , Hysteria.  We’re already wanted in Vale, and it’s not like she knows who we’re working for.  I just felt giving the city a little something to give them an edge here.”

“And you think _she’ll_ give them an edge?  Ha!”

Citrine’s head swam as she tried to pick herself.  That kick had knocked the sense right out of her and as she stared at the figures conversing before her, she had to take a moment to realize she wasn’t seeing double.  Two more people had appeared—a large girl with stringy, pale purple hair and a small, scrawny boy with pallid skin and goggles.  As Citrine struggled to her feet, the girl glared at her and the boy started grasping his hands together nervously.

The taller boy—Connor?—smiled at her and sounded impressed as he said, “She is still on her feet after one of _my_ kicks.  Maybe she can give them a chance after all.”

“Yeah,” Ember nodded.  “I got the feeling she’s a real born and bred _hero_ , this one.”  Despite her otherwise friendly manner, Ember spat out the word “hero” like Skull might spit out the word “friend,” meaning, in an entirely mocking and disparaging manner.

“What…”  Citrine clenched her eyes shut for a moment as she tried to gather her thoughts.  “Who are you people?  What you doing here?”

The other girl, Hysteria, shook her head.  “Clueless and helpless,” she muttered.  “Just like everyone else.”

“We’re here for the exact same reason you are, Citrine,” Ember said.  “We’re here to do a job.  It just so happens that while you were hired to protect Kaijumura, _we_ were hired to destroy it.”

A chill ran down her spine and her head was quick to clear at those words.  “That’s…that’s literally _impossible_ ,” Citrine gasped, staring at her in disbelief.  “The city’s too strong.  It’s too big.  And even if it wasn’t, I’d—”  She gripped Harbinger tightly, her weapon feeling like the only thing grounding her and giving her strength in this surreal moment.  “I won’t let you!” she declared.  “I’ll stop you myself!”

Ember and Connor both exchanged a glance and started giggling.  The other boy’s eyebrows crinkled with worry and softly, he said, “Oh, sweetie…”

“I’ll let you rethink that challenge for a moment,” Ember told her, still clearly amused by the thought.  “After all, I think you’ll have your hands full for a while.”  The faunus pulled out her weapon—the large red and gray steel fan Citrine had seen her carrying the other day.  Citrine raised Harbinger to block whatever attack might come from it, but when Ember swept it around to create a tremendous blast of air, she noticed it wasn’t aimed in her direction.  Instead, she was sending razor-sharp slices of wind at the surrounding warehouses. 

The slices cut straight through thick steel chains and padlocks that had been keeping their garage doors shut.  It was only then that Citrine realized the warehouses’ doors had all been rattling desperately.

With the locks gone, massive claws and talons began to tear the doors open.  Behind her, Ember’s team was swallowed up by the cloud of darkness and Citrine watched in horror as hordes of Grimm burst out onto the streets of Kaijumura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, at just over 6k words, I think I can call this the new longest chapter yet, and it certainly had a lot going on. Lots of new faces, lots of hints at the past, and now a bigass Grimm attack. Hooboy!
> 
> Just for future reference, new(ish) characters this chapter include:  
> Folly Xalbador: owner of Mumus industries and owner of Kaijumura  
> Abraham Hollow: bodyguard and head of security for Xalbador  
> North Blustere: a hunter  
> Bluebell Johnson: another hunter  
> Ember Zharptitsa: a not-hunter bird faunus  
> Connor Ferrous: a not-hunter dude with shadow powers  
> Hysteria Fuji: a not-hunter who is tired of bullshit  
> Tien Ranay: a not-hunter with goggles


	15. Today, I am a Hunter

Citrine punched the number one contact on the speed dial of her scroll, muttering, “Pick up…Pick up…”

“This is Torque’s voicemail.  Just telling you not to use it.  Send me a text instead.”

She hung up and punched the number two on her speed dial.  “C’mon Ware, pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“Hello, you’ve reached the number of Sleet Warring.  I can’t answer my scroll right now, but if you just leave a message, I’ll be sure to—”

She hung up again and almost literally punched the number nine on her speed dial.  “Pickup, pickup, pickup, pickup, pickup.”

“Greetings and salutations for reaching my voicemail, the voicemail of Royal Mauvello, heir to the—”

“Shit!” Citrine shouted.  She stared through alleys and side streets as she raced across Kaijumura.  The Grimm were still there, thundering through the city, leaving a wake of destruction in their path, and her biggest problem right now was that her teammates had their scrolls turned off so they _wouldn’t interrupt a ceremony_.

Barely daring to take her eye off the flashes of Grimm to do it, Citrine went deep into her own text messages, back to trollish ones sent to her a month ago by someone harassing her with reminders of her own screw-ups and incompetence, and dialed the number attached to them.  “Please have your scroll on,” she begged breathlessly as it rang.  “Please let being an asshole be a good thing for once.”

The scroll picked up after two and a half rings.  “Citrine, what the hell?” Skull barked out immediately on the other end.  There were sounds of panicked voices in the background, and Skull himself sounded terse and perturbed.  “You run off the stage like some kind of idiot and two minutes later, we’ve got alarms screaming?  What—”

“Skull, listen to me!  There are Grimm in the city!”

“ _What?_ ”

“There was a team of hunters or something.  They had dozens, maybe hundreds of Grimm trapped in warehouses and they just set them all loose.  They’re rampaging through the city now and with those alarms freaking people out, they’re definitely coming for the ceremony right now,” she explained rapidly.  “You’ve gotta tell them what’s going on.  Get the people to safety.  Get the hunters out here.  Just—”

“Done,” Skull said, then hung up.

Once again, Citrine was alone with little more than a block separating her from one of the largest incursions of Grimm into Mistral in recorded history.  However, there was no fear in her as she ran alongside them, at least not for herself.  She was not afraid of what would happen to her if she fought now, only what would happen to countless others if she did not.  She was certain of what she needed to do. 

Citrine stopped in front of one of the city’s new stores and kicked the door, shattering all the glass in the pane and bursting inside.  There was no time to worry about property damage anymore.  She was almost certain the school would forgive her if it was in service of the city, and she was certain Royal could cover the bill for this store’s inventory.

Standing in the middle of the flower shop, Citrine held out her hands and began to drain the life from every fresh and beautiful plant in reach.

Atop one of Kaijumura’s skyscrapers, Ember crouched on the roof alongside her teammates, staring down at the Grimm rampaging through the streets.  There were hundreds of the beasts in all different species, and as she understood, it had been no small feat to capture, contain, and transport so many to a populated area.  She thought this alone might make the job worth it, just to see something few people had seen and lived to tell about.

“They’re running in a much more direct path than I would’ve thought,” commented Connor, his head tilted curiously.  “I thought young Grimm like this were supposed to be reckless, cause a lot of damage.”

“There’s so much fear in the air, those Grimm already know exactly where they need to go,” Hysteria said, her eyes narrowed.  “Sorry Connor, we’re still gonna have to put in the time to wreck these streets ourselves.”

On the edge of the roof, Tien paced along back and forth nervously, only shooting glances at the Grimm every few steps.  Ember knew he didn’t like this.  He had never liked this plan, and seeing it executed was worsening his anxiety.

“Don’t worry about it, Tien,” Ember told him reassuringly.  “This is all to wreck the city, not the citizens.  The Grimm’ll barely touch them.  Just the idiot hunters who get in their way.”

“Speaking of idiot hunters,” Connor laughed, pointing down to the head of the horde, “looks like your little friend’s already here.”

Ember followed his gaze down below to where a single spot of gold was charging towards the Grimm.  That sorry sight almost made her feel the same regret she knew Tien must be feeling for the whole city—regret she would be feeling if she didn’t know whose side that girl was on.  “Damned stupid hunters,” Ember growled, rising to her feet.  “C’mon, Team THCE.  Let’s go wreck these streets.”

Skidding to a halt, Citrine stood her ground before the Grimm and fired off the first blasts of her semblance.  Although she was vibrating with how much energy she had absorbed, she knew she had to be conservative with how she used it and how much she released, which was why, instead of attacking the Grimm first, she blasted through  the corners of rooftops.  Large chunks of debris toppled down to the streets on either side of her, creating a barrier of sorts.  It wasn’t much, but it would make it much easier for her to deal with the Grimm trying to make it past her.

Next, Citrine pulled out Harbinger as a rifle and took aim at the beasts charging towards her.  She shot through vital points that rendered them dead or immobile—through the heads of scalebacks, through the small waists of beowolves, through the legs of creeps to send them toppling over.  Through the remains of the fallen first wave, G.O.U.S.’s began to pour in over their bodies and Citrine blasted a wave of drained energy to wipe them out in an instant.

But of course, there were more of them to come.  Not only were there countless common Grimm like G.O.U.S.’s, boarbatusks, scalebacks, and beowolves, but greater beasts heading up the rear as well.  She could see the telltale golden tails of deathstalkers and the twin heads of King Taijitu.  Thunderous footsteps in the distance even hinted at something of a grander scale—a grounder, a behemoth, or, dust forbid, even a goliath.  Citrine knew she would have to face them, but not yet.

With the first Grimm almost at the barrier, Citrine shot a major blast of her semblance through the center of horde.  Her attack created a gap in their ranks, with those on the edge of it approaching her in a more manageable line.  She took one swipe to knock away the stream of G.O.U.S.’s that leapt from her right, then blasted through the pair of beowolves behind them.  With the momentum, she swung to the left and planted her axe into the back of the creeper approaching her.  Using it as a shield and turret, Citrine pivoted around it, shooting off fire dust rounds at the line of Grimm behind it.  Then she kicked it away, crushing a spidren behind it and blasting the next Grimm in line.

“Come on!” Citrine bellowed at the Grimm.  She was egging them on to keep them coming at her instead of trying to make it over the barrier, and trying to keep her own spirits up at the same time.  It was hard to do when her semblance energy was already running low and she had barely made a dent in the horde.

More Grimm started leaping at her first in twos and threes, then in waves of half a dozen at a time.  Citrine cut through them mid-air when she could, and when they managed to land before her, she took wide swings, cutting through as many as she could at once.  Whenever her blade lost momentum and got stuck in a body, she used it as a bracer to fire off more shots until it shook loose.  Those few that broke past her, she blasted with her semblance as quickly as she could.

For a moment, she fell into a rhythm.  Bash.  Swing.  Blast.  Bash.  Swing.  Blast.  Spin and repeat.  She had to keep it up to make her feel like she had this under control, rather than that she was the only bandage on a dam about to burst.  The next size class of Grimm—the ursa and the deberan—were coming up soon, and she had to be ready to take them on.  She could not let them get past her.

For this city, for Mistral’s people, for her friends at the ceremony, she had to hold this barrier.

Citrine slashed through another duo of scalebacks as a beowolf raced past her towards the rubble.  She spun to blast it with her semblance, but too late, she realized her reserves were gone and was left holding her arm out a moment too long, trying to make an attack come out.

A G.O.U.S. leapt out from the side, sinking its fangs into her forearm.  Citrine cried out in pain and bashed it into the rubble, killing it instantly.  She then threw herself at the beowolf.  Grabbing its arm to hold it back, there was one moment where the beowolf turned to look at her, and Citrine was nearly nose to nose with the beast as its red and yellow eyes burned into her.  Her heart thundered as she stared at it in understanding.

The beowolf raised its claws to crush her and rip her apart.

Citrine jammed Harbinger’s Almanac into the Grimm’s side and it fell dead beside her.

There was barely a moment to breathe before Citrine heard a thundering of hooves.  She turned over on the rubble and saw a flash of horns and a heavy plated skull, just before bull-like deberan rammed into her and sent her flying.

She saw the barrier crumble as the Grimm flooded through, the deberan leading the charge.  Watching the oncoming wave, she prepared to curl up to protect herself from being trampled when they overran the street.  However, before she could hit the ground, someone appeared and caught her in their arms.  They jumped away with her, sheltering them in a narrow alley as the Grimm horde thundered past.

After they set her down on the ground, Citrine’s head swam and her ears rang for a long moment as everything came back into focus around her.  When she realized she was surrounded by Torque, Royal, and Ware, staring down at her with concern, she almost sobbed with relief, but settled for laughing instead.

“Hey,” she said, her voice cracking, “it’s about time you guys showed up.”

“Citrine, what is going on?” Royal demanded, nervously staring back and forth between her and the stream of Grimm passing them by on the main street.  “What in the world are all these Grimm doing here?” 

“What happened to you?” Torque asked.  She crouched beside Citrine and examined her arm, frowning seriously at the wound.  “What were you doing taking on all those Grimm alone?  What were you thinking?”

“That I needed to stop them,” Citrine mumbled.  “Speaking of which…”  She looked up at Ware, who had his bow and an arrow ready in hand and was on high alert with his ears twitching towards the main street.  “Ware, what’s going on with security?” she asked.  “Are there other hunters out there?  Were the people evacuated from the ceremony?”

“Regular security was starting to move out the crowd when we left,” Ware reported.  “And I assume the rest of the hunters will be here soon, but we probably got a little ahead of them.”  He smirked, saying, “We may have been a little overeager to make sure our fearless leader wasn’t also being too much of a dumb, dead leader.”

“Given your timing, I think you were just as eager as you needed to be,” Citrine joked.  Still, that the rest of the reinforcements were still on the way gave her as much concern as realizing her axe was still stuck in the one beowolf out in the rubble.  “Come on then,” she grunted, unsteadily rising to her feet.  “We’ve gotta go deal with this.”

“What?  _No_.”

Citrine blinked in surprise and looked back at Torque, who was glaring at her.  “Torque?” she asked in confusion.

“No.  We’re not dealing with that,” Torque repeated firmly.  “You’re already injured.  We’re outnumbered.  We were hired to stand on stage and behave, not throw our lives away.”

“I admit, I also have some apprehension about this course of action,” Royal added, his voice quavering slightly.  “We are not exactly in the best equipped state to be taking on a horde of Grimm.”

Citrine stared back and forth between them, Torque stubbornly grounded and Royal nervously fidgeting and both of them clearly scared.  She glanced at Ware, who only raised his eyebrows slightly.  He was waiting for her lead.  They all were.

“Guys, it doesn’t matter what we were hired for or how ready we are,” Citrine told them imploringly.  “We’re hunters either way, and what matters is that there are Grimm out there putting people in danger.  We can be just as scared of them as everyone else, but the difference right now between us and everyone we’re meant to protect is that we can go out there and punch our fear in the damn face.”  She lifted her head and said, “Regardless of what we were hired for, this is still our job, and right now, we’re the only ones here to do it.”

Before her, Torque frowned more thoughtfully, her hand tightening around Výthisi’s handle.  Royal’s gaze trailed out to the Grimm in the street again.

“You know,” Ware said, “for someone who decries those 'heroic' Valens so much, you certainly seem to enjoy making heroic speeches.”

“Oh, hush,” Citrine said, swatting his arm.  “Now, come on,” she said, waving her friends on encouragingly.  “Are we doing this together or do I have to rip those Grimm apart with my bare hands?”

Royal chuckled.  “I have no doubt you could, Citrine,” he said, drawing Spurious Sovereign off his back, “but I suppose it would be disgraceful to me and the Mauvello name if I allowed you to do so.”

Torque sighed and swung Výthisi out into shield form.  “Fine,” she said to Citrine, “but you’re staying close to me this time.”

Citrine laughed.  After facing down the horde alone, her best friend having her back actually sounded very nice.

“And as long as we’re punching fear in the face, why don’t we make it a little more fun?” Ware suggested as they headed out of the alley.  “Try out a few of those new moves we’ve been working on?”

Royal gasped excitedly.  “Ware, my dear, do you mean our combo moves?”

Ware nodded.  “Combo moves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next chapter, things get REALLY hectic.
> 
> Team THCE = Team Thistle


	16. Rising Up

The deberan that led the charge through the streets of Kaijumura was an old beast.  Unlike those others it had spawned with, it had lived through many conflicts and many seasons, gaining more scars, more plating, and more wisdom.  It had become more than a beast.  It was a being with thoughts, and so it knew when to fight and when to back down. 

When it had been surrounded by humans weeks ago, it had at first believed it was time to fight.  It had rammed and reared and butted its head into its assailants, goring some of those that came closest to it.  However, when they came at it with constraints, ropes and heavy fences, instead of sharp, metal bits, it had decided to give in for the moment, allowing itself to be taken in, transported far away, and kept in a large but empty space.

The deberan had waited there patiently, even though the younger Grimm that came to share its space did not.  They rioted and attempted to clamber their way out every time they got a whiff of fear from the humans introducing more of their kind into the environment.  It waited though, readying itself for the opportune moment to fight or to flee.

That moment was eventually given to it and all the others when their containers were slashed open and they were allowed to flood out freely.  They were all led forward as one to a strong source of emotions, one that quickly turned to fear.  They were filled with bloodlust, and they were ready to kill, but even then, the deberan was cautious, and with good reason.  There was a human waiting to slaughter those that came first.  The deberan only attacked the human when it had weakened and grown fearful.

Then it set out to lay its horns into the sea of fear that was growing with every minute. 

Shortly after it set out, it heard a loud human shout.  If it had been able to understand human language, it would have heard the words, “Oil Slick,” but in the situation, it still would not have understood the meaning of them.  No amount of wisdom or comprehension could have changed the fact that one moment, the deberan was there, and the next, it was sliced in half length-wise.

Royal stuck the landing in front of the horde, standing upright and shaking the Grimm grime off his sword as Torque, who had used the force from her shield’s laser to propel him out of the sky, cannonballed to the ground.  With her semblance active, she made a significant crater in the ground and crushed several Grimm along with her.  The Grimm left around them hesitated a moment before beginning to form circles around the pair, preparing for attacks.

As Torque changed Výthisi to hammer form, Royal faced the Grimm, holding Spurious Sovereign mostly steady.  “That was a better landing than we typically achieved in practice,” he called out to Torque in an attempt to keep both his voice and his head cool.  “I think our teamwork may be improving, Torque!”

Torque, weighing Výthisi in her hands, kept her eyes on the Grimm as she said, “It better have been.”  She then began smashing and bulldozing her way back through the Grimm toward Citrine.

Royal took another look around at the Grimm surrounding him before deciding he needed to help his teammates out.  He jumped up and over their heads, following Torque’s path out and just barely missing the claws that grabbed for him.

The two of them reconvened on the edge of the streets where they had left Citrine in a defensible doorway.  She was jabbing Harbinger’s Almanac in controlled movements at the few Grimm attempting to get past her.  Rejoining her, Torque and Royal both stood before her and switched to shields, firing off bullets and lasers blasts through the crowd and giving her a moment to rest. 

“We took care of the head of the crowd.  They should focus on us for a while,” Torque reported.

“Yaaaay us,” Royal cheered weakly as he rebuffed the slashing grip of an attacking beowolf.

“Are you still okay?” Torque asked, glancing back at her.  She’d been worried when they found her in such a haggard condition, but also relieved that they’d found her at all.  The combination of Skull announcing that the city was full of Grimm and the realization that Citrine had been out there alone with them had seriously frayed her nerves of steel.

Citrine, despite being a little bruised, scratched, and singed around the edges, still held herself and her weapon well.  “I’m doing great!” she exclaimed, smiling energetically.  “I think I’m getting my second wind.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Torque told her.  “We just have to hold out for reinforcements.”

“Aww, but Torque!” Citrine laughed.  “I was hoping we could try out our combo today.”

Torque gave pause at that.  “Well,” she said.  “Maybe.  Do you have any power for your semblance?”

“Um…”  Citrine hesitated, looking around for more plant life to refill her drain.  Still no trees or shrubs in sight on this street.  There was, however, one spot of green before this sea of black, white, and red.  “Say, Royal,” Citrine said, her eyes trained on his head.  “How fresh are those flowers on your hat?”  She knew from trial and error that she could drain energy from fresh-cut plants, but she preferred not to because they made her feel a little queasy.

“Oh, how kind of you to ask, Citrine,” Royal responded as if this was a simple fashion inquiry.  “These are actually an experimental breed of succulent flower bred to resemble non-succulents.  You can remove them from the ground for decorative purposes and as long as you water them periodically, they will keep their life about them for a significant amount of—”

“Okay, thanks,” Citrine said before yanking the life out of them.  As Royal let out a cry of distress, she felt power coursing through her again.  “Alright, Torque!  Steel Petals!”  She jumped up to stand side-by-side with Torque, using laser and energy blasts to clear the Grimm immediately before them, then used Torque’s shield as a springboard to launch herself to the other side of the street.  From there, she swung Harbinger as a bat, knocking Grimm in Torque’s direction, where they had their heads smashed beneath her hammer.

“Ohh, excellent work you two!” Royal called over to them.  “We’ll have these Grimm taken care of in—EEK!”  He let out a shriek as a scaleback jumped onto him, knocking him to the ground.  It clawed desperately at his shield to try to reach him, but Royal managed to raise Sovereign’s rifle to shoot it and push the beast off of him.  He let out a huff as he righted himself, then swept a hand over his head.  He was bothered when he realized his hat wasn’t there, but decided that it was hardly the best move to retrieve it at the moment.  “Say, where’s Ware?” he asked Torque.  “I thought he’d be back by now.”

Torque, who was smirking beyond her usual limits as she battered Grimm back and forth with Citrine, shrugged and said, “Dunno.  Should be here.”

Royal began to frown, then jumped in surprise as something began to thunder down the street.  He was close to panicking when he saw a deathstalker making its way towards them, then felt a full jolt of it when he realized Ware was crouched atop its back.  He kept slashing at the joints of its pincers, driving it to agitation and driving it forward through the crowd.  With it thrashing around in a rage, it was taking out a number of smaller Grimm in its path.  There was, however, now a deathstalker to deal with.

Citrine lit up at the challenge.

“Precious Medals!” Citrine shouted as she began to fight her way through to the deathstalker.  Ware nodded at her command and drew a series of ice arrows, one to fire at the pincer and another to fire at the legs on its left side.  With them frozen to the ground, she used the last of her semblance to blast them out from beneath it, sending it toppling onto its side.  As it flailed in pain, Citrine leapt and used her axe to smash through the frozen and brittle joint and sever its left pincer.

As Ware dug an arrow into its side and clung to it to avoid being bucked off, he shouted, “Citrine, the underside!”

Citrine ducked around to its prone side and attempted to jab her axe into its belly, but in her worn out state, she couldn’t move quickly enough to pull the move off.  She was first rebuffed by one of its remaining thrashing legs before it aimed a blow at her with its pincer.  Citrine crossed her arms defensively, but was saved when Torque rushed in front of her and caught it with her shield.

“Torque!” she exclaimed.  “Thanks for the save.”

“No problem,” Torque said.  She blasted the pincer with her shield’s laser, though it wasn’t enough to crack it and soon had to block another attack from it.  “Now what?” she asked.

Citrine looked back and forth between Ware battling off the deathstalker’s attempts to stab him with its stinger and Royal’s attempts to keep the tide of regular Grimm back.  “Torque, cover me!” she called out, dodging from around her shield to join Royal at the front.  “Now, guys!  Top Nock!”

Royal, who had been sweating under the weight of the horde, perked up at his call to action.  “Be back in a moment!” he said, giving Citrine a pat on the head before taking off, up and up through the air.

On the deathstalker’s back, Ware took a leap, climbing onto its swinging tail.  Despite his brain rattling from how hard it was attempting to throw him, he managed to pull out an electric dust arrow from his quiver and jam it into the unprotected back of the tail.  As it was paralyzed with shocks and convulsions, Ware launched himself off from its plating and cross cut with his knives to scissor off its stinger.

Rolling to land on its back again, Ware only had a moment to breathe before had to make his way back to the head of the deathstalker.  He began to slash out an X on its heavy plating, all while thinking, _You had better not miss, Royal._

At the height of his climb, more than a hundred feet up, Royal stopped jumping and began to freefall—just for a moment, just long enough to remind himself of that terrifying yet joyful sensation of being out of control, and just long enough to take in the sea of black and the few specks of gold, silver, and turquoise fighting to keep it at bay.

When he’d fallen completely upside down, Royal readied his sword and kicked off from the roof of the sky.  He screamed towards the ground, barely able to course correct, and Ware barely managing to dodge out of his way as he landed, ramming his sword into the weakened spot on the deathstalker’s head.  His impact cracked the pavement beneath them and knocked the surrounding Grimm back, allowing Torque and Citrine to climb up onto its back as well.

“Guys, that was amazing!” Citrine exclaimed as Team RWCT regrouped.  “I mean, I knew we were gonna pull it off, but your combo really rocked that deathstalker.  Like, that was out of the movies or something.”

Ware, whose head was still rattling from being thrashed around, needed a moment before he could mumble, “Thanks.”

Royal, whose arms were still shaking from the force of impact and was still trying to yank his sword out of the not-dissolving-fast-enough Grimm hurriedly said, “Thank you, Citrine.  That’s very kind of you.

Torque merely tapped Citrine on the arm and said, “I think we have other things to worry about right now.”

Citrine looked around and realized that they were still surrounded on all sides by lesser Grimm—beowolves, scalebacks, creepers, and ursa who no longer had a greater beast to be afraid of.  She realized that in some sense, the deathstalker had been their life raft, and with its body dissolving beneath their feet, they were starting to sink.

She felt her heart begin to fill with fear, but when she looked at her friends’ faces—at Torque’s uncertainty, Ware’s stony acceptance, Royal’s hopelessness—she reminded herself that she didn’t have the right to be afraid for her own safety right now.  There were people depending on her to be strong.

Citrine smacked the butt of her axe onto the deathstalker’s skull, jolting her teammates to attention.  “Line up, line up!  Torque, hold your hammer high.  We’re going to need some wide swings.  Ware, get more ice arrows ready.  Don’t make it any easier for them to get to us.  Royal—”

Royal finally pulled his sword out, his face petrified in terror of what she might say next.

Citrine gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Stick close to me.  We might need a little Glitter and Gold to get us out of this.”

He laughed in relief and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out.  Ware drew his first arrow and steeled his eyes in preparation of the Grimm that dared to make the first move.  Torque held Výthisi steady and hardened her skin.

Citrine had an odd but brief moment of clarity.

 _This_ was why she became a hunter.

“Alright, Team RWCT!” she shouted.  “Let’s—”

There was an explosion at the back of the horde, or at least _something_ that sent half a dozen Grimm flying and shattered to bits in the air.  Citrine watched dumbfounded as, in a straight line towards the deathstalker, more and more Grimm were violently knocked away.  It was only at the front of the horde that the source of the destruction was revealed—a familiar tan face in a bulletproof breastplate and formal black knight armor hoodie.

“Hello there, Citrine!” Leo Hotspur greeted her, leaning against the deathstalker with an energetic look in his eyes and his smile.  “Boy, there sure are a lot of Grimm here!”

It was Leo, but different.  Unlike the beanpole she had met on the train, Leo was now muscular, practically to the point of bursting out of his clothes.  These muscles apparently weren’t just for show either.  As soon as another Grimm was foolish enough to jump at him, Leo spun and caught it by the jaws and ripped its head in two.

Ware's jaw dropped open in horror before he shut it, reconsidering the gesture.

Citrine’s eyes grew wide, as she gasped, “Whoa…”

As Leo drew his lance, Truthpoint, and charged back into the fray, Citrine saw that he wasn’t the only one who had come to their aid.  The rest of Team HARL had arrived as well.  Streams of sparkling pink laser beams began to shoot through the crowd as Aona Yasutake arrived at Leo’s side.  With straight black hair bundled into extravagant hair loops and a blue and white dress with an excessively poofy skirt, she used the beams from the tip of her heart-shaped wand to rain death on the attacking Grimm.

”Never fear, Haven students!” Aona proclaimed in a joyful voice.  “Love and justice will always prevail!”  She then spun and energy beamed three spidrens in half.

Through the sky, Holly Goodhat soared onto the scene with her lavender dress billowing around her, riding what looked like a levitating janitor’s broom dozens of feet above the heads of the Grimm.  Smiling serenely, she tapped the broom once and began to fall, but just before she hit the ground, she pulled her broom out from beneath her and swung it into the Grimm below, revealing that its bristles were sharp, metallic spikes.  Smashing into a beowolf to cushion her landing, Holly dashed over and tapped a mailbox.  As it began to levitate, she hopped onto it and rode it over the heads of the Grimm, swiping with her broom at opportune moments.

Further back, Roxy Edison had risen above the horde as well.  Half a dozen long, spindly, mechanical legs extended from her backpack and she hung from it in the air as they carried her around.  “Hey, Torque!” she called out.  “What did you want to see first?  Guns or blades?”

“Guns,” Torque called out.  “Obviously.”

Roxy grinned and pressed a button on her backpack.  The middle pair of legs retracted and transformed, creating two gun turrets and a pair of triggers.  “Check this!” she exclaimed before beginning to mow down row after row of Grimm with high-caliber rounds.

“Nice,” Torque commented.  She then nudged Citrine and said, “Good power, but I definitely could’ve designed the lift mechanics better.”

Citrine didn’t have another moment to respond before she spotted another disturbance in the horde.  A figure was rising head and shoulders above the Grimm—an incredibly tall human figure, one that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the black and white.  Citrine recognized her as the yellow-and-pink clad cowgirl from Torque’s blurry photo of Team SAIJ.  Since Torque had given her the rest of the rundown of the Beacon team while they waited for the train, she knew this was their heavy hitter, Joy Sweets.

Joy apparently noticed Citrine noticing her as well and returned her stare with a smirk and an expression that at first looked like it was going to be a wink, but then simply turned into a very drawn out blink.  When Citrine only responded with confusion, Joy settled for staring down the Grimm around her.

Another hunter only appeared for a second beside Joy before they kicked off the ground to a tremendous height.  Citrine had to crane her neck to see the cat faunus with the tufted tail—Springer Rowe, leader of Team SAIJ—hanging in the air.

“Comin’ atcha, Spring!” Joy exclaimed before uppercutting an ursa with a pink gauntleted fist.  The flailing ursa just barely missed Holly’s flight pattern as it soared up before coming into the reach of Springer.

Drawing an ornate dragon-patterned nagintata, Springer stabbed through the ursa and called out, “Back atcha, Joy!” before it plummeted to the ground.  As she began to fall herself, Springer dove towards another pair of her teammates on the ground—Iris Lecuyer, who was defending her ground with a flashy shield and mace, and Anatole Morel, who was using streams of energy with his angelic staff to heal and energize her.

“Iris, Anatole, how’re you holding up” Springer asked, landing on a Grimm with a crunch.  “Need any help?”

Iris smacked down a G.O.U.S. solemnly and said, “We’re fine.  I’ve got Anatole.”  She briefly nodded up and said, “Look like Joy’s got another one for you.”

Springer caught sight of the scaleback Joy had punched into the air.  Noticing Holly flying towards it with her broom outstretched, she exclaimed, “Hey!  Dibs!” and leapt after it.

“Showoffs,” Citrine grumbled.  It seemed just like Valens to have such a flashy tactic, but she let it slide.  These people had come to their aid just as much as the Vacuans after all, so she felt willing to let go of the rivalry for now. 

“Team LBRS!” Citrine heard someone bark at the back of the horde.  “Formation 14-23!”

She turned her gaze to see the latest arrivals, the Atlesians of Team LBRS.  Their leader, Ripple, who had given the order, was standing side by side with Baker.  Ripple had an oversized flamethrower slung over her shoulder and Baker had a small device in one hand he was using to emit a concentrated laser beam.  Together, they were cutting a wide path through the horde while Letitia, with her sword glowing with dust, and Spelt, with his simple bladed gauntlets, guarded their sides.

A pair of boarbatusks began to roll through the crowd towards them, wreaking havoc on the pavement with their heavy tusks and plating.  Ripple took one second to analyze the situation before calling out, “Formation 2-4!”  She transformed her own weapon into a battering ram apparatus before moving back beside Letitia to defend the perimeter as Spelt took the lead. 

The boy took one look at the approaching beasts, let out a disdainful, “Tch,” and struck the ground at just the right moment to send the boarbatusks sailing up through the air.  With both surgical precision and a lofty grin on his face, Baker shot his laser up at the exposed sides of the Grimm, leaving them dead before they hit the ground.

“Good form, babe,” Baker said, giving Spelt a peck on the check before Ripple called them back into their original formation—something that did not break despite the pressure of the Grimm and Letitia nearly slicing Leo in half when he bumped into her.

Both Citrine and Royal watched this display in open mouthed awe and dismay.

“Their tactics are way better than ours,” Citrine mumbled, very specifically referring to Ripple.

“Their combos are much neater than ours,” Royal mumbled, very specifically referring to Spelt and Baker.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Ware said, patting them both on the shoulder.  “Ours are much cooler, and that’s what really matters, isn’t it?

“And like most Atlesian technology, their weapons are much less sustainable than ours,” Torque commented.  “Those girls must waste so much space on their weapons just for fuel and dust storage.”

Citrine shook her head, snapping back to her senses.  “Whatever.  We’re not going to let Haven get shown up here!” she exclaimed, thrilled by the prospect of fighting alongside combatants from all the other kingdoms.  “C’mon, guys!” she said, brandishing Harbinger.  “Let’s get in on this!”

Her teammates nodded in acknowledgement and together, they leapt into the fray, cutting through the thinned herd of Grimm easily. 

Too easily, in fact. 

It took them a moment to notice that the Grimm were laying down in defeat before their weapons even struck them.  Ware’s arrow passed through a creeper that was creeping away towards an alley and Citrine beheaded a beowolf that had already lowered its head near the ground.  Upon realizing the ease of their victory, the two of them stopped and exchanged glances.

“Aha!  Take that!” Royal exclaimed, continuing to slash through the Grimm indiscriminately.  “You aren’t so tough now, are you?”

“What’s going on?” Ware asked, watching the Grimm slinking away warily.  “Now that the odds are even, they’re not… _scared_ , are they?”

Citrine shook her head, frowning.  “They’re…Grimm aren’t supposed to be scared,” she murmured.  “They don’t feel fear.  I don’t know what’s going on here.”

“Whoa!  Team RWCT!” Leo called out.  He ran up to the Haven students along with Aona and Roxy as Holly hovered above.  Behind them, Team LBRS was nearing their march to the end of the horde and Team SAIJ was helping clear the path for them.  “What’s going on here?” he asked, looking around at the cowering Grimm.  “I know we just got here, so we’re kind of out of the loop, but—”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Citrine repeated, more snappily than she’d intended.  "All I know," she continued, trying to hide the rising panic she felt, "is that we have a chance to clear out the Grimm easily now.  We should do that and get back to the ceremony as soon as possible."

The words had barely left her lips before the streets began to shake.  In part, it was from the heavy footsteps of something approaching, and in part, it was from a deep, rumbling purr.

Gathered together, the students of the four kingdoms watched in stunned silence as a cat-like muzzle peered around a skyscraper at the level of its fourth story.  The beast's face was surrounded by a mane of bone-like protrusions.  It had a lithe, predatory body and gleaming white claws.  A black and white tail lashed behind it in anticipation.

As it stepped out onto the street, the rest of the Grimm could only cower before it.

The hunters-in-training could barely believe their eyes.

"Okay," Springer said, " _what_ is _that?_ "

"Some kind of overgrown felin?" Holly suggested weakly.

"Impossible," said Spelt, his stern expression wavering.  "Even mid-sized Grimm of advanced age do not grow that large."

"I know what it is."

All eyes turned to Citrine as she spoke, and as Ware stared at his leader, he realized there was a fear in her wide yellow eyes he had never seen before.  That made him worry more than the beast itself.  "Citrine?" he asked cautiously.

"My parents told me about it once.  I thought they were just telling tales," she continued.  "Maybe they did too.  They told me about a giant Grimm with a mane of bones and a tail of dragon hide and claws of steel.  They said it only appeared in the most dire times when masses of Grimm came to feast on masses of people.  They said—”

“Enough with the farmhouse story stuff,” Ripple snapped.  “What is it?  And what does it do?”

Citrine’s heart was racing and Harbinger shook in her hands.  She knew danger when she saw it and this creature was more than that.  “It’s called a chimereon,” she said.  “And it—”

Her explanation was cut off at a loud hiss from a King Taijitu as it slowly began to crawl toward the chimereon’s legs.  The chimereon considered the lesser Grimm carefully as it spat and reared back its black head to strike.  Just when it began to move, the chimereon slashed its claws, cutting deep into the white half.  Then, as the black half reeled in pain, the chimereon picked it up in its jaws and began to choke it down, whole and live.

“The…it ate it!” gasped Baker, voicing everyone’s shock.  “It _ate_ another Grimm!”

But the horror show wasn’t over yet.  Once the chimereon had finished its meal, it knelt and shuddered before a second tail burst out alongside the first.  The two tails began to whip about wildly, and then they began to hiss.  It was only then the students realized that its tails were actually King Taijitu.

“It’s a chimereon,” Citrine repeated solemnly as the beast began to move from sizing up its fellow Grimm to sizing up the students.  “And it eats other Grimm to regenerate and grow its own parts.”

The chimereon reared its head back and roared, loud enough and powerfully enough to shatter windows panes and send debris flying.  It also sent members of the party—Aona, Anatole, and Royal—falling to their knees out of fear. 

Some, however, were moved to other actions.

“Enough talking,” Joy said, stepping forward and punching her palm.  “Let’s do some walking.  Spring?”

Springer nodded and the pair rushed forward, even as Iris shouted, “Wait!” after them.  The pair were already attempting to double team it.  As soon as they came within range of its claws, Springer leapt up at eye level with the chimereon and hurled her naginata at its nose.  It was barely enough to make the beast flinch, but it did provide a distraction for Joy to clamber up its leg and entrench herself in its mane.

“Take this, shit cat!” Joy shouted, breaking the tusks away with her punches.

The chimereon appeared equally unbothered by this, beginning to chase the moving target of Springer around the street.  Then, when it was close enough, it smashed the side of its own head into a skyscraper.  Joy crashed to the ground along with a shower of shattered glass and twisted metal.

“Oh,” Anatole gasped, his eyes widening.  “O-oh dear!”  He grabbed his staff and took off to aid his fallen teammate.

Noticing the new figure on the field, the chimereon pounced after him, but its attention was quickly diverted as a powerful laser blast hit its side.  Baker had dashed forward to provide covering fire.

“Baker!  Back in line!” Ripple snapped at her teammate.

Baker waved her off in a carefree manner in-between blasts.  “In a second.  Whoa!”  The chimereon snapped and pounced after him.  Baker barely managed to jump out of the way the first time as its claws smashed into the pavement.  The chimereon quickly whipped its body around and one of its Taijitu tails smashed into him.

Spelt’s stern expression cracked to one of concern and he shouted, “Baker!”  Despite Ripple’s protest, he rushed to catch his boyfriend, but before he could land in his arms, Baker appeared to reverse a few seconds in time, stumbling back to his feet uninjured.

“Phew!” Baker gasped, dusting off his clothes.  “Close one.”

Spelt grabbed him and hugged him for a split second before dragging him back in line, saying, “I’ve told you a thousand times.  _This_ is why we have formations.”

The chimereon paused in its offensive to snatch up a pair of boarbatusks to gobble down and use to regrow some of its tusks.  As it did, there was a rush above the hunters’ heads as Holly flew over.  She had remounted her broom and had a whole host of debris flying after her as well.  She took a swift, looping flight pattern around the Grimm, pelting it with glass and asphalt with each fly-by.  The rest of Team HARL threw themselves into the fray as well, with Roxy and Aona shooting at it from the front lines and Leo launching his lance like a missile into its chest.

As the chimereon reared and thrashed in confusion, Royal laughed nervously from where he was kneeling on the ground.  “Look,” he said, “it looks like they’ve got it under control.  They’re _fiiiine_.”

Citrine shook her head slowly.  She hadn’t taken her eyes off the chimereon for a second.  She couldn’t afford to miss learning anything about it.  “They’re not.  They can’t,” she said.  “That thing isn’t even wounded yet.  It’s just annoyed.”  And based on its pattern of attack, she could tell, it wouldn’t even be that for long. 

The chimereon turned its back on Team HARL and kicked its back leg out at Leo to swat him away.  With his tremendous strength, Leo managed to catch and hold its paw, but before he could call for someone to try to cut it off, the chimereon had snatched up and gobbled down an ursa.  Its muscles swelled in an instant and it finally forced its foot back, sending Leo skidding back along the street.  The chimereon then reared onto its back feet and caught Holly’s broom from beneath her with one of its massive claws.  Springer managed to catch her before she hit the ground, but they were both forced to dodge again quickly as the rest of Holly’s debris fell around them as well.

The Grimm spun and charged at Aona and Roxy, then, when they dodged to either side, after the students as a whole.  As they ran and scattered around it, attacking it from all sides, the chimereon began to attack back indiscriminately, smashing its mane, claws, and tails into students and property alike, grabbing extra Grimm to beef itself up as well.

While from the outside, it may have seemed as though the two parties were in a stalemate, all those involved knew the hunters were limited by how long their auras could last.  The chimereon, on the other hand, had only grown stronger since the fight began.  Despite the best efforts of Teams HARL, SAIJ, and LBRS, the hunters would eventually lose.

And Ware, Torque, and Royal knew this.  Or at least, Ware and Torque did, and Royal was so fearful of the possibility, he felt it to be true, which was why none of them had leapt into the fray yet.  They were waiting. 

That was something unique about Team RWCT, for such a high performing team.  Its members were extremely skilled, but they couldn’t match others like SSSN and ABRN for the initiative and brute strength that allowed them to rush in and take out hordes.  In most circumstances, they were too cautious for that.  Even their seemingly reckless leader understood that throwing yourself in thoughtlessly could mean throwing your life away.

This was why Ware and Torque waited for their leader to tell them _how_ to throw themselves in, and Royal secretly hoped she would never tell them anything.

But Citrine had watched for long enough.  She had been trained to learn about the unknown quickly and bear down when the only thing to do was fight.

And she was not prepared to lose.

“It’s not enough to attack scattered like this,” Citrine said.  “And we’re not any better as teams.  We need to attack as like forces in concentrated areas to have any effect on this thing.  Torque, take Ripple and Joy to the front.  Ware, with Aona, Baker, and Roxy to the back.  Royal, with Holly and Springer to the side.  Follow the other leaders’ leads, except for you, Ware.  Take charge of your group if it makes things easier.”  Ware nodded in comprehension.  Torque double-checked her memory to make sure she knew which ones were Ripple and Joy.  “Alright guys,” Citrine said.  “Break!”

Ware and Torque both bolted off to gather their groups while Royal rose unsteadily to his feet.  He looked uncertainly back and forth between Citrine and the great raging Grimm.  “C-Citrine,” he stammered, “oh, Citrine, I can’t.  That thing is—it’s too—and I’m—I’m—”

“I’m afraid too, Royal.”  He blinked in surprise as Citrine held his gaze evenly.  “There’s a lot at stake here, and I’m scared about everything that could happen to us and to everyone else,” she told him.  She reached a hand up give his shoulder a strong squeeze and said, “But that’s why we have to be brave too.  Because all those things _will_ happen if we aren’t.  Understand?”

Royal’s eyebrows rose as she looked to him imploringly.  “Citrine, I…”  He gulped and lifted his head up high.  “Yes,” he said, “I will do what I can.”

She nodded.  “I’ll walk you out to Springer,” she said.  “I need to find Leo anyway.”

Leo was dancing dangerously close to the chimereon’s front legs as he attempted to get a grip on its fur.  With his lance still embedded in its chest, he needed to find some way to reach it.  “Leo!  Hey!” Citrine exclaimed, jogging up to him.  “Can you help me out with something?”

“Sure,” Leo said, nodding cheerfully.  “Though, if you could help me grab Truthpoint, I could probably be even more helpful.”

“Gotcha.”  Leo offered her his hands to step in, and when she did, he launched her into the air with a mighty throw.  Citrine grabbed the handle of the lance and swung off it for a moment before kicking off from the chimereon’s chest and landing back on the ground.

“Many thanks,” Leo said, taking his weapon back gratefully.  “What was your plan?”

“I think the best way we can take this on is by grouping up by specialties,” she explained.  “There’s going to be tanks out front, ranged fighters at the back, and aerial fighters at the side.  I need you to rally the melee fighters—Iris and Spelt and Letitia—and attack the underbelly of this beast.  Sound good?”

Leo laughed.  “I’m game for anything today,” he said.  “Where will you be?”

Citrine’s jaw tightened slightly as she admitted, “I’m run ragged right now.  I don’t know if I can support the groups in the way they need me to.  But I know another way to help, so I’m going to do what I can.”

Clapping a hand on her shoulder, Leo said, “I know you will.  You’re a good hunter, Citrine.”  Then he ran off to gather the rest of his fighters.

She watched him go for a moment, thinking, _You are too, Leo_. 

She’d misjudged him.  She’d misjudged most of them.  None of the people fighting here were as simple as the name of their kingdom, and she trusted all of them to fight their hearts out. 

And her team…

“Guards up!” Ripple barked.

Beside the Atlesian leader and Joy, Torque raised her shield.  Her eyes and her stance were certain even though she was the one most directly positioned before the giant Grimm.

“Prepare diverting fire!”

Torque prepared to blast laser beams at the chimereon’s chest as the hunter on either side of her prepared to counter its blows with their heavy weapons.

Around the side, Springer looked at her new squad and asked, “Ready for wheels up?”

While Holly nodded eagerly, mounting her broom again, Royal continued to hesitate.  Even without frothing jaws or two pairs of venomous fangs staring him down, the back of the chimereon with its many protruding bones was intimidating enough.  He wasn’t sure he could do this.

“Ranged fighters, aim!”

Royal looked over to the source of the call to where, beside Aona, Baker, and Roxy, Ware was raising his bow—Ware, stalwart and undaunted in the face of danger, yet still, Royal realized, just as vulnerable as anybody else there.  Still needing just as much help as everybody else to survive this ordeal.

Royal abruptly spun to face Springer.  “I’m ready to fight,” he nodded.

And at the back, staring down the twin King Taijitu tails attached to a giant, deadly monster, getting ready for the fight of his life, Ware was still certain he preferred this life to being back in Star Shot.

“Fire!” he shouted.

“Up!” Springer exclaimed.

“Defend!” Ripple commanded them. 

“Attack!” Leo called out.

There were explosions around the chimereon as four groups sprang into action.  Ware’s group with their ranged weapons started firing shots at the base of the Taijitu tails, attempting to blast it off.  Springer’s aerial fighters took to the air, throwing themselves in attacks at the chimereon from unexpected angles.  Leo’s melee fighters took swipes and jabs at its unprotected underbelly, and when the chimereon grew agitated and started lashing out at their efforts, Ripple’s tanks were there with their heavy weapons raised to take the brunt of its attacks.

One of Ware’s arrows exploded at the base of its tail, blowing it half off, and when Roxy aimed her machine gun fire at it, it fell to the ground and began to dissolve.

“Keep it up!” Ware cheered, channeling Citrine’s dauntless enthusiasm.  “We can get the other one if we work together!”

The chimereon’s remaining tail increased the ferocity of its attacks as it beat against the tanks’ guards with its front paws.  A pair of its foot-long claws caught around Torque’s shield, looming inches from her face as it attempted to rip her shield away.  However, one blast of her laser, followed up by a bashing of Ripple’s battering ram, were enough to send it howling away.

It spun around in hurt, anger, and confusion.  Springer stuck her naginata in its side.  Letitia sliced at its ankles with her dust sabre.

It raised a paw to strike the tanks.  Joy blocked the blow with her gauntlets.  Baker and Aona shot lasers to blind its tail’s eyes.

It bounded forward, attempting to snatch up a cowering deathstalker for reinforcement, but there was a yellow flash, and then there was Citrine, stabbing Harbinger through its underside.  The deathstalker began to dissolve.  There were dozens of others dissolving all around it.

Winded, Citrine locked eyes with the beast.  The chimereon locked its eyes onto her and attempted to pounce.  Citrine began to dodge backwards while Torque fended it off with more laser blasts.  Still eyeing the chimereon as her teammates laid more hurt on it, Citrine edged towards a beowolf on the sidewalk.  She wanted to make sure this chimereon wouldn’t have any fuel to regain its strength.

Unfortunately, this beowolf was significantly less cowed by the chimereon than the others, particularly after witnessing so many of its kind cut down.  And Citrine was slow.  As she raised her axe to behead it, the beowolf abruptly leapt and slashed, sending Citrine flying into a street sign.

Citrine gasped as her back struck the pole and yellow waves of energy passed over her body as her aura finally failed.  She crumpled to the ground, doubled over by all her pain and exhaustion from the day’s fights as they finally hit her in full force.  Trembling, she attempted to push herself back onto her feet, but could barely even rise an inch before collapsing again.

Seeing her friend fall, Torque’s blood ran cold and she shouted, “Citrine!”  Even as Ripple shouted at her to step back in line, Torque broke away from the formation to try and reach her.

The chimereon took the chance offered by the weakened front to spin and turn its back on the tanks, focusing its attacks on the ranged fighters.  As it spun, its tail swung and crashed into the side of the skyscrapers.  Torque only had a moment to stare in horror as a shower of metal, glass, and concrete crashed over Citrine, burying her beneath the rubble.

As Torque scrambled towards the disaster site, the chimereon began to thrash and strike out, nearly trampling the melee fighters beneath it and scattering the rangeds.  Ware sent one more arrow at the beast in vain as it grabbed more of the cowering Grimm.  Almost immediately, all its muscles swelled, rebuffing all the weapons stuck in it, and undoing almost all the harm that had been done to it.

The hunters stared at it in despair.  In the background, Anatole, with his healing semblance, was offering some aid to his teammates, but how much he could do was limited by his aura.  The chimereon could always do more.

“We…”  Holly murmured, lowering to the ground.  “We can’t fight this.  It’s too strong.”

“C’mon Holls, don’t say that!” Leo said in a tone that was half buoyant, half begging.  “We can still do it!  I believe in us.”

“This isn’t a matter of belief,” Ripple told him, nursing the bent metal of her battering ram which had been twisted into her arm.  “It’s a matter of we physically can’t.”

Leo stared at her, his muscles notably deflated at that point.  “It’s not a matter of we can’t,” he said.  “It’s a matter of people are going to get hurt if we don’t.”

“ _We’re_ getting hurt,” Ripple insisted.  “And the smartest thing to do is retreat and regroup.”

“And the _right_ thing to do is—”

The chimereon swept a paw through, knocking both of them aside like dolls.  It then began to prowl down the street, the hunters around it caught in the inaction of their uncertainty.  Ware, however, was certain of one thing.  Both Torque and the pile of rubble over Citrine were in the path of that beast.

“Royal!” Ware called out as he broke his bow into knives.  “Whatever I start, you finish!”  And despite Royal’s panicked cry for him to stop, he launched himself at one of the chimereon’s back legs and clung to it.  He pulled out an arrow and jammed it into the beast’s flesh, then stuck a knife in to help steady his grip as it violently attempted to shake him off.  Ware climbed further up and jammed another arrow in, repeating the process every foot until its leg was speckles with arrows.

His work set, Ware pulled out his other knife to cut through them, but was blindsided with pain and sent flying as the head of the Taijitu tail smashed into him.

“Ware!” Royal’s heart leapt into his throat and he leapt into the sky.  He caught Ware with an, “Oof!” from both parties and descended to set him down lightly on the ground.  Crouched over Ware’s injured form, Royal felt as though his insides were roiling over emotions.  He was scared and worried and confused, all yes—all things familiar to him.  But at the same time, when he looked at Ware and thought of what this thing had done—what it was still doing to his team—

It lit a fire in him, and suddenly, he didn’t feel quite so scared anymore.

As when Ware weakly pushed himself up onto his elbows, still reaching out for his knives, his path was set.  Royal took off at a run at the chimereon.  Its tail surged at him, but in a mix of trained reflexes and panicked instinct, he managed to rebuff it with Sovereign.  He then fell, slicing down the row of arrows and setting off a train of dust effects, culminating in a grand explosion.  Royal was blown away by the blast as the chimereon howled in pain.

Given the opportunity by the Grimm’s sudden distraction, Torque carefully began to remove rubble from the pile—pieces she could tell wouldn’t disrupt its structure and cause it to collapse completely.  “Don’t move, Citrine,” she said, trying to keep her own cool despite the desperation of the situation.  “I’ll have you out in a–”

“Save your breath.”

Torque looked up in surprise as two figures rose up on the other side of the rubble pile—a more disheveled than usual Skull who was supporting an almost unconscious Citrine.  She gasped and rushed over, calling out her teammate’s name again.  “You’re okay!” she exclaimed.

Skull snorted, “I wouldn’t go that far.”  He adjusted his stance to try to get Citrine’s feet under her better, but aside from groaning quietly, she didn’t much respond.  “What’s she been doing—fighting the hordes of the damn Demon King?” he demanded.

Ignoring his remark, Torque stared up at him with a curious look.  “You saved her,” she stated.

Skull shrugged as well as he could.  “It was just a shove,” he said.  “I wasn’t just gonna show up late and do _nothing_.  And hell, I usually think ‘shove’ when I see Sunshine’s stupid face, so I just figured—”

“Thank you,” Torque said, using one of the few phrases that had the power to both confuse and silence Skull.  She gave him a respectful nod and said, “Citrine was right.  You’re not all bad.”

Skull stared back.  It was the only thing he could think to do.

“Torque!”

They both looked over at the limping approach of Ware and Royal, who looked as though they had taken some damage of their own.

“We managed to distract it,” Ware reported, clutching his side where the tail had struck him.  In the background, the chimereon was swatting at the few hunters still brave enough to attempt to tackle it.  “But it won’t stay that way for long.  It still wants to get to the crowd.”

“Half the people were already heading back on buses and rails when I left the evacuation,” Skull said.  Still new to the scene, he couldn’t help but eye the giant Grimm uncertainly.

“That’s still half of them there,” Royal pointed out.  Despite his singed and frayed appearance, he seemed livelier than ever.  “We could try to lead it to a government building, have the lasers take care of it.”

Torque shook her head.  “Those are meant to take down small to upper-middle class threats.  They may not even singe something this powerful.”

Blinking her eyes, Citrine suddenly reached forward and started grabbing at pieces of rubble.

“What are you doing?” Skull snapped, pulling her back.

Deliriously, she murmured, “You guys have to help me move this.  My axe is under there.  We have to fight this thing.”

All of her teammates responded with a resounding chorus of, “Citrine, no!”

“You don’t even have to,” Skull pointed out, grinning excitedly.  “Look Sunshine, the cavalry’s here.”

Team RWCT stared down the street to where two figures had just arrived, strolling at a leisurely pace.  As the rest of the hunters caught sight of them, they leapt away from their target and the fighting momentarily quieted, leaving the chimereon staring around in confusion.

Bluebell whistled around at the wreckage of the street.  “Impressive,” he said.  “You know it’s a good fight when there’s this much rubble.”

North snorted derisively.  “It’s a _bad_ fight when it goes on this long,” she said.

“C’mon, be nice.  They were up against a lot,” Bluebell told her.  “I think they did just fine.”  He paused by Team RWCT, and gave them an encouraging smile.  “You did good, kids,” he said.  He tossed them another handful of chocolates, which Royal managed to catch, and winked encouragingly.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll take it from here,” he said, then hurried after North.

Coming slightly back to her senses, Citrine watched as the two hunters approached the chimereon.  North pulled a hook off her belt, which unfurled into a shepherd’s crook.  Bluebell had no apparent weapon other than his metallic boots, but they both held themselves with complete confidence.

The chimereon eyed them cautiously for a moment, but when they presented no obvious threat, it charged.  Before it could reach them, North and Bluebell both disappeared in a blur.

The chimereon froze completely, from its half raised front legs to its twisting tail.  It was then that Citrine noticed North was nonchalantly perched on one of its mane tusks, a hand resting on its head.  Above them, Bluebell began to fall from the tremendous height he had leapt to.  He tucked himself in to fall head over heels, and once his roll was under way, he clicked his boots together, activating their rocket boosters.

Spinning down in a flash, Bluebell dropkicked the chimereon just as North leapt away.  Its head smashed into the ground with a force that sent shockwaves across the pavement.  Appearing behind it, North placed a hand on its tail, freezing it as a ridge of serrated blade appeared around the edge of her crook.  She then leapt up, giving the unfrozen tail a moment to twist around in confusion before she sliced it off.

Wobbling around uncertainly without its appendage, it tried to face North, but then turned to a call of, “Here, kitty-kitty!”  Bluebell was waiting for it beside a pile of rubble.  The chimereon roared at him.  Smirking, he tapped a man-sized piece of concrete.  The concrete disappeared for a second, then reappeared above the chimereon’s head and smashing into it.

Bluebell kicked off from the ground again, boosting around to different piles, snatching the largest pieces he could and dropping them on its back.  North sped around its legs at an impressive speed, briefly freezing it at critical points to allow her to slash and bash through its flesh.  The chimereon cried out in confusion as it was attacked from every angle, until finally, it collapsed to the ground.

The two hunters rejoined before its twitching form and exchanged a glance.  Bluebell cocked his head to the side and asked, “Meringue?”

North sighed in annoyance.  “I thought we were done with those stupid combo names,” she said.  When Bluebell twitched his ears at her, she shook her head.  “Go get your garbage.”

Bluebell kicked off to another pile and tapped a large, metallic window frame.  As the chimereon weakly stirred, it appeared above North’s head.  She spun and swung her crook, batting the rubble through the Grimm’s face.

After the crunch of steel through bone, the chimereon crumbled and began to dissolve.

The streets were silent for half a second before the lesser Grimm began to move again.  North looked around, noting them as well as all the injured students.  “You take care of the Grimm,” she said.  “I’ll take care of the kids.”

“Don’t take care of them too hard,” Bluebell half-joked before taking off.

As Bluebell boosted around, making quick work of the Grimm, North meandered over to the Haven students.  “Alright kids, head on back to the main stage,” she instructed them.  “We’ve got it from here.”

When they didn’t immediately move, North prepared to take care of them a little more insistently.  Then, she noticed the blonde one again, staring at her intently.  Perhaps it was because of the exhaustion apparent in her, but her newly subdued manner made her look more like Ceres than ever, and that got to North.  Whether she liked it or not, there _was_ something about that girl.

North’s expression softened a fraction.  “Look,” she sighed.  “Seeing real hunters at your first real invasion can be challenging.  I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking, ‘Those two just did in two minutes what we couldn’t do as four teams.’  You’re wondering how you could’ve failed for all your allies and all your tactics.”

Citrine raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment.

“Well, I’m telling you Bluebell wasn’t doing you any favors by saying you did good enough,” North told her.  “You can try as hard as you like and work with as many people as you want, but that’s no way to guarantee victory.”  She narrowed her eyes and said, “Sometimes, the only way to save your skin,” she nodded to the rest of Team RWCT, “and the skins of those you care about, is by being the biggest, baddest bitch around.  Got it?”

And amidst the wreckage, the Grimm, and all the pain and fear inflicted onto her closest friends, everything she could have prevented by being strong enough in the first place, Citrine felt for certain this was true.

“Yeah,” she rasped.  “I got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, I basically feel like this chapter is the definition of "that escalated quickly."
> 
> Anyway, additional notes!  
> Combo Names:  
> Citrine x Torque: Steel Petals  
> Citrine x Ware: Precious Medals  
> Citrine x Royal: Glitter and Gold  
> Torque x Ware: Tool Fox  
> Torque x Royal: Oil Slick  
> Ware x Royal: Top Nock
> 
> (And even though they weren't really in this chapter)  
> Skull x Carmine: Fine Wine  
> Skull x Umbra: Eggshells  
> Skull x Lux: Newsprint  
> Carmine x Umbra: Peppermint  
> Carmine x Lux: Full Deck  
> Umbra x Lux: Penguins
> 
> International Teams:
> 
> Team HARL (Harlequin) of Vacuo  
> Holly Goodhat  
> Aona Yasutake  
> Roxy Edison  
> Leo Hotspur
> 
> Team SAIJ (Sage) of Vale  
> Springer Rowe  
> Anatole Morel  
> Iris Lecuyer  
> Joy Sweets
> 
> Team LBRS (Albatross) of Atlas  
> Letitia Naturana  
> Baker Yi  
> Ripple Helena  
> Spelt Grayson


	17. Revelations

Citrine stared out in front of her at a velvet rope.  It took a long moment of staring before she began to understand that she was staring out at the rail that had once barred the paparazzi from the red carpet, but now only served to divide two halves of an otherwise empty street.  It took her less time to realize what she was feeling, though she quickly wished it didn’t.  Every part of her at least ached, and some parts—where the G.O.U.S. had bitten her and where the deberan had attempted to gore her—hurt much more sharply.

She could also feel the hard and slightly bumpy surface of a stereo beneath most of her and the bundled up cloth serving as a pillow beneath her head.

She attempted to push herself up and hissed at the pain that flooded her body.

“Heya!  What’s the story, morning glory?”

She blinked and looked around for the source of the voice.  Looking over her shoulder, she saw someone seated atop another stereo beside her. He had a thick book in hand and a familiar head of blue hair.

“Lazulus?” she asked.  “What’re you doing…here?”  She had to double-take to make sure that “here” was still Kaijumura.

Lazulus smiled gently down at her.  “I’m going to assume you mean in a literal sense,” he said.  “Team MPVL got the call that Kaijumura was under attack.  Most everyone else was seeing off the Vytal Festival competitors, so we hopped on an airbus to come help out.”

Citrine nodded absentmindedly, then asked, “Did you get here on time?  I didn’t see you at the horde.”  Which she would eventually realize sounded more accusatory than she had intended.

“There’s more to a Grimm crisis than fighting monsters,” he told her.  “You learn that in your second year.  Hunters who can keep their heads are invaluable at crowd control.  Just being there makes people feel better, which makes Grimm less likely to attack them.”

“Oh,” she murmured.  “That makes sense.”

“Pongo’s semblance was helpful getting people’s attention, but he got a headache from using it on all those people,” Lazulus explained.  “I think Marie was jealous too.  Team CRSL showed up just a minute before we did, and they got to go with the security team to fight those rogues attacking downtown.”

“Those—”  Citrine sat bolt upright despite the protests from her muscles.  Her heart sped as she looked around wildly and shouted, “Ember!  And those others!  Where are they?  What are they—”

“Easy now,” Lazulus said, placing a relaxing hand on her shoulder.  “As I understand, they’re gone now.  They were attacking property, but as soon as they were outnumbered, they turned tail and ran.”

Citrine sat there, fidgeting for a moment as she tried to wrap her head around this.  She had tried as hard as she could to chase down and capture Ember, and failed at that.  And she had never stood a chance to take down all four members of that team.  They could have ended her life in an instant, and they _had_ tried to end the lives of everyone at that ceremony.

And then they had just…left?  Just for being outnumbered?

“I was so… _stupid_ ,” Citrine spat, clenching the hem of her torn and dirty dress.  “I didn’t think Ember was a threat.  Or enough of a threat.  I tried to stop her on my own and I wasn’t strong enough.  If I’d just stopped for a minute to think—asked anyone to come with me—I could have stopped—”

“Stop.”

She looked up into his unusually stern expression.  There was a shadow over his face again, just as there had been when he’d recounted the downfall of Team WLLW.

“I know that path of ‘could have,’” he told her.  “I’ve been locked in my head for weeks of ‘could have,’ and I can tell you, it doesn’t do you any good to think of what you could have done.  You can learn from it, and use it to guide what you should do now and in the future, but if all you can think about is what you could have done, you’re only defeating yourself.”

Citrine pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to accept this.  She knew it was good advice, but it was hard to accept when her failures were still so fresh at hand.  And that, combined with North’s own words of wisdom, made her feel that her own path ahead was clear.  She could never be so weak and foolish again.

But still, she tried not to think about it.

“Hey,” she said, “where’s my team?  I thought at least one of them would be around.”

“Oh, they were sort of filtering around for a bit, but they seemed okay with me looking after you,” Lazulus said.  “I believe your Royal took a walk with one of the Atlesian boys…”

 _Setting things straight with Spelt_ , Citrine thought. 

“Ware was fielding questions from some reporters that wouldn’t leave…”

_‘Super Star Saves Super City,’ they'll wanna say, probably._

“And I think Torque wanted to take up some suggestions to the security team.”

Citrine snorted.  “Yeah,” she said.  “I get that.”

For a moment, she allowed herself to hunch over as silence fell between herself and Lazulus.  Down the red carpet, towards the train station, she could see more people gathered—hunters and security, crew members attempting to rescue their equipment, brave or foolhardy reporters, or just onlookers with their scrolls out to film the relative calm after the storm.  There was still an air of fear about them, in the twitchy and cautious way they moved, but there was no one still panicking and no one in mourning.  They were safe, all of them.

She let out a sigh and smiled. 

“Hey Laz,” Citrine said.  “I think I figured out why I want to be a hunter.”

“Oh?” Lazulus asked, pleasantly surprised.

She nodded.  “Yep.”

He beamed at her.  “Good to hear!”

“Oh, Citrine!”

Citrine perked up to the tune of a familiar voice and saw Royal hurrying towards her from down the red carpet, followed not too far behind by Torque and Ware.  “Guys!” she exclaimed, hopping to her feet.  Hobbling up to them, she was quick to shout, “Guys, I’m so proud of you.  We kicked ass today!”

“Oh, do you really think so?” Royal asked, wringing his hands.  “I couldn’t help but feel that the other teams had larger bodycounts than us and—”

“We were there first and we got that situation under control,” Citrine told them firmly.  “We were braver and held out longer than anyone else there.  We kept this city safe.”

Although Royal seemed to bloom with the compliment, Ware still seemed skeptical.  “Ware, that’s not just empty words,” she insisted to him.  "You took control of your squad and you stood up to the chimereon longer than any of them.  You were good today.”

Ware sighed and smiled lightly.  “I only did what needed to be done,” he said.  “But thank you, Citrine.  That does mean something, coming from you.”

She beamed at him, then at Torque, saying, “And Torque, you—”

Torque cut her off, squeezing Citrine in a tight hug.  Her head pressed against her shoulder, Torque mumbled in a low, quiet tone, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Citrine squeezed her back, murmuring, “Me too.  I’m glad we made it.”

Soon, Royal had thrown himself into the hug, and when Citrine side-eyed him, Ware hesitantly joined as well—the four members of Team RWCT pressed together, for one moment, in warmth and safety.  For one moment, they were just four kids grateful to be alive.

Then, they broke it off, and once again, they were young hunters with the weight of the world on their shoulders.  They were also, however, still teenagers

“So, you got some messages from the other teams while you were out,” Ware informed Citrine as they started heading back towards the rail station.  As Citrine waved good-bye to Lazulus, he said, “Leo said he wanted to catch up and talk semblances later and Ripple said she wanted to discuss strategies for mobilizing quickly in a crisis.  Torque let them both leave their numbers in your scroll.”

“Oh.  Thanks, Torque,” Citrine said cheerfully.  It was exciting to have contacts from outside of the kingdom now.

“And, uh, Joy came to check on you too, I think,” Ware said, a little more uncertainly.  “She tipped her hat at you, said what sort of sounded like, ‘Malady’ and then blinked at you.  Very hard.”

Royal frowned.  “How does one blink very hard?” he asked. 

“Just watch Joy Sweets for about five seconds,” Citrine joked.  “You’ll figure it out.”

“Here’s your scroll back,” Torque said, handing it back to Citrine as if she had merely borrowed it instead of stealing it while she was unconscious.  “You still need a stronger passcode, by the way.”

Citrine accepted it, rolling her eyes and saying, “Thanks, Torque.”  Then, when she went to stow it in her back belt pocket, she realized something else was missing.  She felt around for it, her heart picking up, then looked around wildly as if that would make it magically appear.  “Guys,” Citrine said at last, “where’s Harbinger?”

The rest of Team RWCT looked back at their leader, who had a disconcertingly panicked expression on her face.  “Your axe?” Royal asked hesitantly.

“Where is it?”  Did one of you pick it up?” she asked more insistently. 

“I don’t believe so,” Ware murmured.

Citrine hissed and scrunched her eyes up.  “It…it must still be under the rubble,” she murmured.    “I didn’t grab it and it’s still out there and—and—”  She suddenly spun and hurried away, saying, “I need to go get it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Royal exclaimed, catching her by the arm.  “Now Citrine, I really don’t think you should be going back there.  They’re still making sure the streets are clear and they don’t want anyone going in.”

“That’s exactly why I need it!” she snapped.  “I still don’t have any semblance power.  I barely have any aura.  I _need_ Harbinger.”

“I’m sure we could ask the clean-up crew to look for it and have it sent to the school,” Ware said in a soothing tone. 

“No, I need—" Citrine began to snap, then realized her friends were looking at her more than skeptically.  She took a breath and a step back before slowly stating, “I would just feel a lot better with my axe on hand.”  She looked imploringly at Torque and said, “Torque, back me up on this.”

Torque, who had little clue of how else to help her panicking friend, merely nodded and said, “I back up Citrine on this.”

Ware shook his head, but still patiently said, “Alright, we can go get your axe.  Only two of us though,” he added.  “It’d be less noticeable.  So, Citrine, obviously, and I suppose I—”

“I’ll go!”

Citrine, Torque, and Ware looked around in surprise at Royal, who had raised his hand up high to volunteer.  “You?” Torque asked.

“Why, yes, me,” Royal said, turning his nose up slightly.  “I’ve proven myself quite competent enough for this, haven’t I?”  He briefly looked for confirmation in Ware, who shrugged.

“If by competent, you mean, ‘in possession of the semblance best suited for getting into restricted areas, other than Skull,’ then certainly,” Ware said lightly.

For some reason, Royal seemed disheartened by this response, so Citrine put a hand on his arm and said, “Anyway, partners stick together.”  She smiled and nodded at Torque and Ware saying, “You two go on.  We’ll catch up.”

As Ware had pointed out, Royal’s semblance made it very easy for him and Citrine to jump he fence that had risen to block off the Grimm-infested streets from the rails and the airbus pads.  Also making it easier was the fact that no one was actually guarding the gates.  Apparently, the guards were more concerned with Grimm getting out to the people than people getting in to the Grimm.

However, it didn’t seem they even needed to be worried about that.  Along their trip to find the spot of the chimereon fight, Citrine and Royal didn’t find any Grimm.  They only needed to duck around a corner once to avoid a patrol of Xalbador’s guards.

“Hey.  Where’d your jacket go?” Citrine asked as they trotted along the empty streets of Kaijumura.

“Oh, you must have missed it,” Royal said.  “I left it to you as a pillow so you could sleep better on that stereo.”

Citrine tilted her head and she felt a flicker of warmth in her heart.  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said.  “I know that outfit meant a lot to you.”

He waved a hand dismissively.  “It was already mostly rags.  I thought it best to use it as such.”

She laughed, looking him up and down.  Without his hat and jacket, he almost looked sort of respectable.  “You know, Royal, I really am proud of you,” Citrine told him.  He looked at her in surprise as she continued on, “I know you were scared, but you kept fighting.  You ran into uncharted territory to help me.  You’ve come really far as a hunter and you’re doing really good.”

Slowly, Royal’s face lit up and he folded his hands behind his back.  “Well,” he said, slightly flustered, a new skip to his step.  “Well, of course I always knew I was exceptional, but it is enjoyable to hear it confirmed.”  When Citrine rolled her eyes at him, he added, “And, of course, I could not simply leave you out here to face the Grimm on your own.  None of us could.  I’m not sure how team RWCT could even work without you.”

Citrine smiled bashfully and tried to give a half-hearted dismissal of this, but the truth was that it felt good to be needed.

Although it was tricky finding their way back to the street where they had fought, they knew it when they saw it.  It was the only one with grooves and craters in the streets, chunks of skyscraper bashed away, and rubble strewn everywhere.

“They certainly did a number here,” Royal commented as they observed the scene.  “Although, as I understand it, very little of the actual city was damaged, and no citizens were harmed, which seems a miracle, given the situation.”

Citrine only heard about half of what he was saying.  Staring around the scene, at the smashed windows and the deep craters, she felt as though she could still see every attack the Grimm laid on them and all the damage the hunters had thrown back at them.  It took Royal’s hand on her shoulder for her to realize she’d been staring at it all silently for too long.

“What?” she asked, coming back to her senses.

Royal gave her a look of concern.  “Citrine, you are clearly still not feeling well,” he said.  “Why don’t you sit down again and I’ll begin the search for your weapon.”

“I’m fine, Royal,” she insisted quickly.  “I can go out and—”

“I insist, Citrine,” Royal said, grabbing her shoulders and wheeling her around to a relatively flat piece of torn up asphalt.  “You’ve had quite the day and I’d just like to do something nice for you.”

Citrine was just beginning to sit and say, “Well, thanks,” when Royal quickly added, “There is, after all, something I have been meaning to talk to you about, and I would prefer for you to be in good, open spirits for this conversation.”

That alone was enough to almost squash any goodwill she was feeling towards him, but the fact that he was already at work overturning rubble in the pursuit of Harbinger kept her merely skeptical.  “This isn’t about the school uniforms again, is it?” she asked.  “Because I don’t much like them either, but I still don’t think Professor Quildrake will agree to start ordering them in mauve.”

Royal hefted up a piece of concrete to check beneath and said, “No, no, it’s not that.”

“Then is it about our bathroom?” she hazarded.  “Because seriously, it’s too small in there already.  I’m not letting you install a fold-out vanity in there.”

Using one bent piece of metal to leverage up another, Royal grunted, “No, but I will be taking that point up on another day.”  When he saw the axe wasn’t there, he let both pieces go and said, "My point today is actually…considerably closer to the heart.”

 _Closer than a vanity mirror_ , Citrine pondered.  _That’s pretty damn close for Royal_.  Then, it hit her.  “Is this about your ex?” she asked.  “Are you getting back together with him?  Is that what you went to talk to him about?”

Royal dropped a window pane and it shattered around his feet.  “Good dust, no!” he exclaimed, shocked.  “No, I respect Spelt’s relationship with Baker, who does seem quite the lovely fellow after all.  However.”  He cleared his throat importantly.  “However, I _have_ developed strong romantic feelings for, um, someone else.”

“Aww, that’s great!” Citrine exclaimed.  She guessed that was the right reaction to this situation and since Royal seemed happy, she was happy for him.  “Who is he?” she asked.  “Someone from abroad?  Or one of our classmates?”

“He’s…one of our classmates,” Royal said, slowly and considerately.  “He’s also incredibly charming…witty…honest… _brave_.”  A dreamy smile spread across his face.  “And he’s _very_ handsome.”

“He sounds great, Royal,” she said.  “Who is he though?”  She didn’t want to judge, but she really hoped it wasn’t one of those weirdos on Team HNNE.  Or Team SHGR.  Or Team GNTL.

_Why are there so many weirdos at this school?_

One of those weirdos was hesitating before her.  “Well, see now, Citrine, Royal said.  “This is why I wanted to have a proper discussion of this with you.  Not only are you my dearest friend, but my leader as well.  And I respect you immensely for that, as well as for the time and effort you’ve put into maintaining the delicate balance of our team’s dynamics.  Which…is why…”  Royal took in a deep breath, steadying himself.  “Which is why I wanted to askyou...if you would approveif I...if I wished to pursue a romance with another member of Team RWCT.”

For a moment, Citrine’s brain whirred tiredly as she attempted to do the math on this.  Despite the fact that there was only one solution, it still didn’t seem to add up.  “Ware?” she asked in utter confusion.  “You wanna date… _Ware?_ ”

“Now, I know this is a bit of a shock, but I assure you, my feelings for him are true,” Royal said.  “I very much like Ware.  Romantically.”  He tipped his chin up proudly for a moment, then quickly devolved into excited squealing.  “Oooh, it is _so_ good to finally say that out loud!  You have no idea, Citrine!”

Citrine was still trying to figure this out.  “Yeah, but… _Ware?_ ”

“Yes, Citrine,” Royal insisted.  “ _Ware_.”  He was starting to seem thrown by her sudden lack of enthusiasm.  “You don’t have any issue with this, do you?  I already told you why I think Ware is fantastic.”

She felt she had to reconsider his description, knowing who he had been talking about.  Ware…she was pretty sure almost everyone would consider him handsome.  She had just never thought about him like that, because that seemed weird to her.  And he was certainly witty; she ended up laughing at a lot of his comments. 

However, she felt his charm only really worked on people who didn’t know how much of his wit was based on insulting them.  That quality too made it hard for Citrine to believe that anyone who really knew him would admire Ware for his honesty.

And then, there was just the way Ware treated Royal, which incorporated most of these qualities.  Citrine had come to accept there were certain things about her friends that she could not change.  Royal, for example, was vain and liked to talk about himself and talk about other things that seemed silly to her.  At length.  And she had accepted that if she at least played along, it made him happy and more likely to put forth his best effort.

Ware was equally as dismissive of Royal’s vanity.  However, without the burden of leadership to hold him back, Ware had no reason to try to appeal to him.  Ware was known for poking fun at his friends, but he seemed to derive particular joy from imitating and mocking Royal’s mannerisms.  She kind of got the feeling that Ware really didn’t respect Royal as much as his other teammates.

Appearing to notice the wheels turning in her head, Royal gasped, “You don’t think Ware and I would be a good couple, do you?”

This was absolutely true.

“No, no, that’s not it!” Citrine insisted quickly.  “It’s just that, like you said, our dynamics are kind of… _delicate_.  I wouldn’t wanna mess that up if, for some reason, your relationship…didn’t work out.”  Royal frowned at this and folded his arms in disapproval.  She threw her arms up and insisted, “Seriously!  I hear romances can ruin teams.  Did you hear about those third years, Team CPRR?  Two of their members were dating and they broke up and now their teamwork is terrible.  I’d just hate for that to happen to us.”

Considering this for a moment, Royal thankfully seemed to buy that it was a real and valid argument.  Unfortunately, he could also think of a valid counterargument.  “Yes, but Citrine, aren’t your parents all hunters who are on a team together and who are all happily married?”

Citrine cursed mentally.  She hadn’t thought he’d actually listened to her that much.  “It’s not that simple,” she said.  “They’ve really had to fight to stay together over the years.”

Royal scoffed.  “What could you have to fight for if it’s real love?” he asked.  “Being in love is the easiest thing in the world!”

“Yeah, but being a hunter in love isn’t.  Especially when it’s with another hunter,” Citrine explained.  “Like, Robin and Nary, they’re so much in love.  Anyone who knows them can see it.  But they haven’t really been together since they graduated Haven because they’re worried about what it would do to their priorities.  They don’t want to be together romantically until they’ve retired because they always want to be able to prioritize their duties to all the people they’re meant to protect over their duties to each other.

“And then Budge and Warbler, they _have_ been married since they graduated, but honestly, they hated each other when they first met.  Fought like cats and dogs.  Warbler was from an old Mistral family, really classy and wealthy, and Budge might as well have been from a clan of mountain bandits in comparison.  And they did stop hating each other and fell in love eventually, but Warbler still basically got disowned by his family for choosing to be with Budge and going on to work as a ‘common hunter.’

“So like, yeah, maybe love is easy,” Citrine shrugged.  “But you gotta know, keeping up that love takes more.”

Royal tilted his head curiously and pursed his lips as he mulled this over.  “Well, I suppose there may be more obstacles in this path than I may have initially anticipated,” he conceded.  “But I have no intention of working the same sort of hunter lifestyle as your parents.  And I know that my parents love me too much to ever disown me.  So, that’s two obstacles avoided already!”

And looking at the earnest hope on his face, Citrine felt he actually did believe that.  He probably did think he could make this work with just love and affection.

And money.  She would guess there was some money involved in that equation too.

“I don’t know,” Citrine murmured, still uncertain.

“Citrine, please just consider it,” Royal pleaded.  “I will put in my most earnest effort to make sure that neither of us are hurt by this relationship.  That none of Team RWCT is affected negatively by this.  I really want—I just want to make us happy.  I really do.”

He bored into her with his storm-blue gaze, and with his full attention and all his hope trained on her, Citrine was finding it very hard to keep refusing him. 

 _Well_ , she thought.  _Budge and Warbler worked out._

“If…if you honestly think you can make it work,” she sighed, “and you promise to not…make it weird, especially if Ware isn’t into it, then…I guess...it’s okay.”

Royal’s eyes lit up and he squealed in excitement.  He sprang over to Citrine and swept her onto her feet, exclaiming, “Thank you for your blessings, Citrine!  I promise it all and I promise not to let you down and I promise that, should we get married someday, you can absolutely serve as my woman of honor.”

“Wait, what?” Citrine asked.

“Oh, and of course, your axe.”  Royal spun Citrine off, leading her to lean against the concrete for support, and then pulled up another piece of rubble.  “Here we are!” he sang, pulling out the green and grey weapon.

Blinking in confusion for a moment, Citrine quickly brightened up.  “Harbinger!” she exclaimed, rushing over and snatching her axe back.  Hugging and rubbing her face against the cold, sharp metallic object, she cooed, I’m never leaving anywhere without you again.”

“You’re most welcome,” Royal said, just slightly smugly.

“Wait a second,” Citrine said, looking up at him suspiciously.  “How did you—”

“Don’t worry your weary little head about a thing, dear leader,” Royal said.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and began to walk her down the street, proclaiming, “Let us now return to our teammates and tomorrow, I will truly begin to woo Ware.  Oh Citrine, won’t we make just the most perfect couple?”

Thankfully, Citrine was saved from having to lie by a sudden shout of, “Where’s our money?”

Her heart was set off racing by the familiar voice.  She shoved Royal to the side, flattening both him and herself against a wall beside an alley.  “Citrine,” Royal said indignantly, “what—”

Citrine shushed him, then pointed through the alley to the next block over and the source of the shouts.  Taking her lead, they both peered around the corner and sure enough, standing there was Ember—looking slightly ruffled, more than slightly annoyed, and backed by her team.

“That’s—that’s her,” she gasped under her breath.  “That’s them.  They’re the ones who released the Grimm.”

Royal’s eyes widened in alarm.  “What?” he demanded.  “I thought they’d left.  What are they doing here again?”

“You’ll be paid.  Eventually.”

None of Ember’s team had spoken.  Citrine realized that they were facing off against at least one other person, and that the person who had spoken had a deep, smooth masculine voice, sounding much older than the academy-aged hunters.  She tried to peer further around the corner to get a look at whoever it was, but she flinched back from her efforts when Ember stomped her foot and sent the winds around her rolling.

“You’ll pay us now,” she demanded.  “We risked our skins setting those Grimm loose and attacking this city, and we’re not walking away from this without our cash.”

“It was a job poorly done,” the man said.  “The city is still standing and the Grimm were wiped out by mere students.”

“Maybe you should have stocked more Grimm then,” Connor said in a snarky tone.

There was a moment of silence on the man’s part.  Then, from his side shot out a disembodied hand.  Citrine stared in horror as it gripped Connor around the throat and levitated higher, lifting him off the ground as he began to choke.

“Connor!” Tien exclaimed anxiously.  He hopped onto his teammate and began to climb him, but their combined efforts couldn’t tear the hand away.

As behind her, Hysteria fumed, Ember growled, “Let him go or you’ll regret it.”

The man seemed unbothered by this threat.  “I will,” he said.  “And I will pay you.  But first, I’d like you to do one more thing for me, to make up for your failure here today.  Do you agree to my terms?”

Ember glared back and forth between him and her gasping, struggling teammate.  And when Citrine saw the conflicted look in her eyes, she couldn’t help but empathize with her for a moment—leader to leader, faced with a difficult choice.

“Alright, we’ll do it,” Ember growled, clenching her fists.  “Just—just let him go.”

There was another moment of hesitation.  Then, the hand released them and flew back out of sight as Connor and Tien collapsed onto the ground.

“It’s a good lesson for you to learn your place in this situation,” the man said as Connor coughed and rubbed his throat.  “I’ll send you the instructions for your next job soon.  Once it’s completed, meet me at Sumire Hill.  I will pay you then.”

Citrine’s eyes widened upon hearing this information.  Mentally cataloguing it, she motioned for Royal to sneak with her past the alley.  Fixated on the conversation himself, Royal followed her, but tripped over a piece of concrete in his distracted state.  She quickly grabbed him to keep him from fully falling over, but he still let out a, “Whoops.”

They exchanged a panicked look as the conversation the next block over stopped.  They both froze in place, not daring to make another noise, not daring to run and turn their backs on what could come from that alley.  Afraid or not, they were both ready to fight.

They were not, however, ready for a jack-o-lantern with darkened eyes and mouth to come flying around the corner towards them like a heat-seeking missile.  Royal yelped in surprise and Citrine jumped before instinctively batting it away with her axe.  When it bounced off the wall, only to float back up to stare at them with those soulless eyes, she shouted, “Okay, screw this!” and grabbed Royal’s arm before taking off down the street.

Despite their haste, the jack-o-lantern merely hung there, watching them go.

Team THCE, meanwhile, had already fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I swear to Zig, we are finally almost done with this one now.


	18. Day's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what a long, winding day it has been.

The entirety of Haven was in an uproar.  Professors and older students alike were being deployed to locations around the kingdom experiencing spikes of panic and increased Grimm activity while all those who remained on the island were chattering non-stop about the incident in Kaijumura.  For the first-years who had yet to see real Grimm combat, it was an exhilarating experience.  An attack so close to home meant the chance for more fighting and the chance to prove themselves in battle.  For all those who had already proven themselves, the same prospect was simply worrying.

This was the atmosphere Citrine and Royal returned to one train ride, a rush across town, and an air bus trip across the sea later.  Despite the long commute, both were still energized by their final encounter in Kaijumura and eager to share what they had learned.

“This is _thrilling_ , Citrine,” Royal trilled as he practically skipped across campus.  “Those rogues don’t necessarily know that we know something they know.  It’s practically espionage!”

“Maybe.  _Maybe_ ,” Citrine said, trying to temper her own excitement and failing.  There was a broad grin on her face that she could not push back into a serious expression.  “We just _might_ be able to get the drop on that team and that guy.  But we have to get this to Professor Quildrake first.  She’ll know what to do with this.”

 _And then we can put this all to rest_ , she added to herself. 

Then, they could all be safe again.

Royal’s scroll suddenly buzzed and when he looked at it, he let out another squeal that seemed to elevate his excitement to another level.  “Oh, and good new upon good news!” he exclaimed.  “Ware just texted and said he wants to see me right now!”

Citrine raised her eyebrows skeptically.  “Really?” she asked.

Royal coughed.  “Well, he wants to see you and I,” he clarified.  Then, because earnestness was getting the best of him, he added, “Actually, he mostly just specified you, because he wasn’t sure if you would check your scroll.  But look at how much he trusted me to convey this important message!”

She hesitated moving forward.  Either the rogue hunters already knew that she knew about them and had changed their course of action, or they didn’t and they wouldn't.  A few minutes wouldn’t change that.  “Alright,” she decided.  “Where is he?”

The first-year dorms were packed with as much noise and excitement as the rest of Haven campus.  All the students inside were chatting away to their friends and neighbors with their doors open, the sounds of their conversations and the news reports from the screens in their rooms carrying around the building.  Oddly enough, Citrine only saw her classmates quiet down when she crossed their paths or stepped in-between their groups.

“Hey,” she said, glancing back at the trailing looks cast by Teams LYKN and SNNO.  “Why’s everybody staring?”

“Well, you _are_ with me, so a little extra attention is of course due,” Royal said.  “And they may have heard already of our accomplishments in Kaijumura.  That’s quite a respectable deed, I would say.”

Citrine frowned and murmured, “Maybe.”  It was just that those stares didn’t seem all that congratulatory to her.

As she approached her own, she found that at least her neighbors on Team SCUL were behaving normally, or at least on level with what was normal for Team SCUL.

“I can’t believe you!” Umbra shouted as she dashed around their room, attempting to grab Skull in a headlock.  “You asshole.  You thin-skinned, glory-hogging _asshole_.  You fought in the biggest damn fight in Mistral in like half a century and you didn’t even call us?  I wanted in on that!”

Skull, who was deftly dodging out of her grips, said, “Hey, _you_ were the losers who wanted to see off those other losers.  Not my fault your priorities suck.”

“But you _should_ have at least called,” Lux echoed, watching from the corner with an exasperated expression.  “Do you have any idea how long it will take for these two to let it go?  We won’t hear the end of it for weeks.  “Oh, Carmine, _don’t_.”

Carmine, however, continued to make thunderous jumps from one bed to another, pouting and shouting, “I wanna fight a giant cat too!”

Citrine observed this scene for a moment before catching Skull’s eye.  Silently, she smiled and saluted him with Harbinger.  Skull didn’t smile back—because of course he wouldn’t—but he did wave off a lazy salute of his own before fazing through Umbra’s grip.  She smiled a little wider.

It seemed that Team RWCT’s room was the only one with its door closed and Citrine threw it open with an excited, “What’s up, guys?  You’re not going to believe what we saw!”

Torque and Ware were both waiting inside, notably subdued compared to when they’d last seen each other.  Torque was sitting cross-legged on her bed, anxiously fidgeting with a widget in her hands and Ware was leaning against his bed, ears swiveled back uncomfortably.  Neither of them had changed from their ruined formal outfits yet.

Citrine stood in the doorway, staring back and forth between them uncertainly.  “Hey, what’s going on?” she asked.

Ware’s eyes flickered towards her, his expression unlike any she had seen on him between.  Not calm, not smirking, but…worried?  Pitying?

“Citrine, there’s something you need to see,” he said slowly.  “There was something that came on the news and…you just need to see it.”

“O…kay?” she said.  She frowned.  “Guys, are you sure it can’t wait?  Because there was seriously something big back in Kaijumura we need to talk to Quildrake about.”

“Maybe it can,” Ware murmured.  “But you should see it here first.”

Citrine looked to Torque for confirmation.  Torque nodded and patted the bed beside her.  As Citrine sat down with her and Ware turned on the TV, Royal shuffled aside awkwardly to watch.  This had not been in his romantic vision for the future.

The TV was already on Mistral Sovereign News where the golden-haired news reporter, Meda Leon, was reporting on the incident in Kaijumura.

“—report no casualties, only injuries from Xalbador’s security team,” Meda said.  Behind him, the footage changed from overhead shots of the destroyed areas of the city to headshots of Ember and her teammates.  They were recognizable, but different at the same time in the pictures.  They were a few years younger and looked a little less severe as a result. 

“Authorities have already identified the party directly responsible for releasing the Grimm on Kaijumura,” he said.  “Tien Ranay, Hysteria Fuji, Connor Ferrous, and Ember Zharptitsa, also known as Team THCE, were seen destroying public property and fleeing the scene.  Already wanted in Vale for numerous charges, including theft, kidnapping, and extortion, Mistral police will be joining forces with hunters from the team’s native kingdom of Vale to pursue these suspects.”

As he continued on about how it was still uncertain how so many Grimm had been brought into the city undetected, Citrine looked around at her friends and asked, “That’s good though, right?  We know who they are.  We can track them down more easily.”

Ware shook his head and said, “Keep watching.  There’s more.”

Torque gingerly put her hand over Citrine’s, even as her other twiddled the screws on her widget back and forth.

“An investigation has also been launched into possible contacts Team THCE had in launching this attack,” Meda carried on.  “According to Abraham Hollow, head of Mumus Industry security, a likely employer for the team has been identified.”

“But that’s…good, right?” Citrine demanded.  She didn’t like how serious everyone looked.  She didn’t like any of this.  “How is that not good?”

“Based on electronic communications between the parties as well as an alignment of travel patterns in relations to low Grimm populations, Hollow has decided to pursue and arrest a team of Mistralese hunters.”  And beside him, the pictures of Team THCE faded away, to be replaced by pictures of four adult hunters. 

Citrine’s blood ran cold to see their faces on the screen.

“Robin Nomarch, Nary Coline, Budge Melopes, and Warbler Dalton, also known as Team RNBW of Mistral, will be brought to trial and charged with crimes against the kingdom.”

And faced with the accusation that her parents had committed one of the most heinous crimes in the history of Mistral, Citrine could only stare at the screen in wide-eyed, open-mouthed horror and disbelief.

“Wait,” she said.  “No…”

* * *

 

Atop the main gate of Mistral, two figures stood alone, their clothes whipping in the wind and their figures lit by the rapidly fading dusk.  There was a solemn air about them, as they had been asked to carry out a solemn task, and their eyes were fixed on the mountainous path before them.

Bluebell broke the silence between them to say, “I don’t feel good about this.  Do you?”

North snorted.  “We’re heading out to hunt down our former classmates for a major act of terrorism,” she said.  “Nothing about this feels good.”

Bluebell hummed nervously.  “Does it feel right, though?” he asked.  “You don’t actually think Team RNBW did this, do you?  They always seemed so… _nice_.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said callously.  “Other people are paying us to bring ‘em in, so we will.”

Bluebell cast his gaze to the ground.  If he had only known what this team would come to, how callous they would all become, then maybe he would have fought all the harder to keep them together all those years ago.

“What do you think Ceres would do?” he asked.

“Ceres isn’t here right now.”

North and Bluebell turned to watch the approach of a third figure—a man with a black jacket and orange turtleneck, slick black hair, and a milky white eye.  He inserted himself between the pair and put a hand on each of their shoulders.  It was a gesture that made North want to burn the cloak he touched.

“Ceres hasn’t been here for nearly 20 years,” Abraham Hollow continued on in that smooth, sweeping voice of his.  “However, if she were here, I can assure you both that she would want us to do our duty to this kingdom and bring Team RNBW to justice.”

Bluebell wasn’t sure he believed that of Ceres Vermoss.  Ceres had been a stickler for rules on principle, but she had never followed them blindly.  She would have questioned this too  However, as always, he was willing to give Abraham the benefit of the doubt and believe he meant well, just as he would for any of his teammates.

“And Ceres may still not be here,” Abraham continued, staring out into the growing darkness, “but I believe that Team CABN can still hunt together at least one more time.”

He leapt down from the gate with North and Bluebell quick to follow.  A cold wind blew at their backs, carrying them towards their target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team CABN (Carbon)  
> Ceres Vermoss  
> Abraham Hollow  
> Bluebell Johnson  
> North Blustere


End file.
